h 


-sik  (Slintpse  of  2buric<w  fife. 


BY 


WALTER    MARCH. 


NEW    YORK  : 

BUNCE    &    BROTHER,    PUBLISHERS, 

No.    126    NASSAU    STREET. 

MDCCCLVI. 


EJCTKHID  mcording;  to  Act  of  Congivss,  in  the  year  13SH,  bv 

B  U  N  0  E     &     BROTHER, 
In  th«  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Di»trict  Court  of  the  U.  9.  for  the  Southern  Di»trict  of.Naw  Yoik. 


W.   H.  T.xso.N,  Stereoty 


&  Co.,  Priuters. 


ilnnllrrtinns, 


B  T  R  U  N  G     TOOK  T  H  K  K  ,     I,  I  K  K      INDIAN     BEADS, 
INTO   A 

WAMPUM    OF    FRIENDSHIP, 

ARE   RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED 
TO 

CO  LONE  I,     CHARLES     O.     OREENE 

©{  tfit  Boston 


BY      HIS      U  X  \V  0  K  T  II  Y      F  R  I  E  X  I)  . 

THE  AUTHOR. 


2047315 


PREFACE. 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  AUTHOR  TO  THE  PUBLISHER. 

MR.  PUBLISHER  : 

I  send  you,  by  the  hands  of  a  mutual  friend,  a  pair 
of  Shoepacs,  or,  old-fashioned  Canadian  shoes. 

J  Happening  to  sojourn  a  few  days  recently  at  the  ancient  City  of 
Detroit,  I  crossed  over  the  beautiful  straits  which  separate  it  from 
Canada,  and  there,  to  my  surprise  and  delight,  I  found  the  article  for  sale 
at  a  smart,  modern,  country  shop.  After  I  had  bought  them,  a  good- 
humored  old  Frenchman — or  "  Kennuck  " — passed  that  way,  who  laughed 
heartily  at  my  simplicity  in  making  such  a  purchase.  When  I  assured 
him  earnestly  that  the  celebrated  La  Salle,  and  the  famous  Hennepin  and 
Marquette,  nay,  probably  Montcalm  himself,  had  worn  Shoepacs,  he  only 
laughed  the  more ;  and  that  too  in  spite  of  my  word  and  honor  for  it 
that  these  men  were  all  highly  distinguished  in  the  history  of  Canada, 
his  own  land — for  he  had  never  heard  of  one  of  them.  But  when  I  told 
him  that  I  had  once  worn  them  myself,  and  that,  with  them,  I  had  trod 
the  long  and  wintry  road  which  led  up  to  what  little  rank  and  fortune 
I  had  secured  thus  far  in  life,  he  grew  serious  at  once,  and  was  polite 
enough  to  believe  me — his  gay  humor  rose  even  to  respect. 

On  being  questioned,  he  told  me  that  Shoepacs  were  yet  in  use  among 
the  old-fashioned,  humble  people  of  this  part  of  Canada — those  who  still 
earn  their  living  by  working  in  the  woods,  killing  ducks,  and  catching 
white  tish.  He  remembered  the  very  first  Frenchman  in  all  the  region 


VI  PREFACE. 

round  about,  who  had  the  extravagance,  or  even  courage,  to  put  on  a 
pair  of  modern  shoes  ;  and  what  a  sensation  he  created  as  he  drove  up 
to  church  in  a  calash,  alighted  and  helped  out  his  wife,  and  strutted  up 
the  path  leading  to  the  church-door.  The  people  were  gathered  in  the 
yard,  waiting  for  the  bell  to  ring  fcr  service,  laughing  and  talking,  and 
some  even  wickedly  cracking  eggs :  and  when  the  new  shoes  appeared, 
they  pointed  them  out  to  each  other,  exclaiming,  au  large.'  au  large! 
room !  room !  and  made  way  right  and  left,  with  mock  bows  and  pre 
tended  ceremony,  for  the  enviable  possessor  of  such  a  treasure. 

Ah,  "room!  room!"  is  the  word  that  expresses  the  history  of  the 
Northwest.  The  moccasin  must  make  room  for  the  Shoepac,  and  the 
Shoepac,  in  its  turn,  for  the  iron  heel  of  the  British,  and  all  together 
exclaim — 

"  Room !  room !  for  the  American  1" 

It  was  at  the  period  when  Indian,  Frenchman,  Briton,  and  American 
commingled  harmoniously  together,  and  there  was  room  enough  for  all 
and  to  spare,  that  the  story  of  my  "  Recollections  "  commences. 

I  remain,  sir,  with  profound  respect, 
Your  friend, 

WALTER  MARCH. 


C  O  N  T  E  N  T  S  . 


Q 
I.   OUR   CITY, 

II.    PLEASANTRIES,  .,          .„         •  -  •.'.*• 

24 
III.   OCR   FAMILY, 

.  .  .  .  .29 

-i        j         .         .       35 

VI.   THOSE   LEFT, 


IV.   SUMMONED   FROM   ON   HIGH, • 

V.    THE    DEPARTURE,        

38 


4fi 
VII.   THE   MAGROYS, 

VIII.    SHOEPAC    AND    MOCCASIN, 58 

IX.   JOHN  MARCH   WRITES   HOME,    .  .» 69 

X.   GHOST   STORIES,         .  75 

XL   THE   SCHOOLMASTER   OUT   WEST          .           .           .        ^.           . 
XII.   A   GLIMPSE   OF  SQUATTER   LIKE, 


108 

XIII.   THE    RIVALS,     .  .  .  .    &  •  •  •  •  •  .123 

XIV.    FATHER    AND    SON,    ..." 140 

XV.    CLOUDS,    .  .  « -    .      J 

XVI.   THE   YOUNG   ORATOR.         . I60 

XVII.   WILD   OATS,     .  .  • 165 

177 
XVIII.   THE    JUMPSES, 

XIX.   MABEL   AND   JORAM,          '".  "      '"  .       '    ..         «.        •  •  •  .191 

XX.   A   DENOUEMENT,        .  .  - I97 

XXI.    MILLBROOK,       .  .-.:.•*• 204 

XXII.   MAJOR   FONTEXOY   VISITS   Mil.    MAGROY, 212 

XXIII.   MR.   MAGROY   HONORS   LILAC   COTTAGE, 223 


Till  CONTENTS. 

MH 
XXIV.   JOHN   MARCH   IS   ABOUT   TO   KISB   AXD   BECOME   A   MAX  OF  THE 

WOULD,        .      ,     .  "        , .       .,.           ......  231 

XXV.    THE   YOUNG   COMMODORE,         «           .           .           .           .            .           .  234 

XXVI.   THE    DRUM   BEATS,             . 242 

XXVII.    IX   MOTIOX,     .           ,   .        .       '    ;          .           .'        *           •           .           .  253 

XXVIII.    TUB    KITCHEN    CABINET, 265 

XXIX.    THE    FIELD   WON,     .........  276 

XXX.   SWEET   HOME,           .           .           .'         .'' 286 

XXXI.   WHAT   WAS   SAID   OX  THE   HOUSE-TOP, 291 

XXXII.    THE   TRIAL,     .           .           .           ,.*•*.           .           .           .  302 

XXXIII.   PROSPECT   AND   RETROSPECT,  .  .         '..  .  .  .  .316 

JEPTHA   JUMPS 'S   SPEECH,         ......           .           .           .  325 

THE    BATTLE    OF   WINDSOR,       .......  332 

THE    SHOEPACS, 354 


SHOEPAC  RECOLLECTIONS, 


OHAPTEK   I. 

OUR   CITY. 

OUKS  was  a  little  antiquated  city.  Its  inhabitants 
were  mostly  French.  At  the  time  I  came  upon  the 
stage  of  events,  the  transition  to  a  modern  American 
town  had  scarcely  commenced.  The  body  of  the  popu 
lation  was  still  of  the  ancien  regime.  The  few  Ameri 
cans  were  officers,  or  ex-officers,  of  cither  the  general  or 
territorial  government,  and  their  families,  relations, 
dependents,  and  friends,  whom  they  had  persuaded  to 
venture  beyond  the  "jumping-off  place,"  as  Buffalo 
was  then  termed.  The  spirit  of  emigration  had  not 
been  fully  aroused  ;  and  the  spirit  of  speculation,  if  felt 
at  all,  was  confined  to  the  fur-traders,  a  class  made  up 
of  all  nations. 

I  cannot  compare  the  society  more  nearly  than  to  that 
of  some  principal  East  India  Company  station  in  a  city 
of  Ilindostan.  There  were  the  governor  of  the  terri- 

1* 


10  S  H  O  E  P  A  C      RECOLLECTIONS. 

tory  and  his  family,  the  judicial,  executive,  and  military 
functionaries,  with  their  families  and  dependents;  like 
subahdar,  nabobs,  begums,  and  the  lesser  lights — 
traders  and  natives,  French,  Indian,  and  half-breed. 
But  one  could  not  well  imagine  a  pleasanter  state  of 
feeling  than  mutually  existed,  with  sufficient  distinction 
between  the  different  castes  or  classes  to  prevent 
\vrangling,  and  yet  sufficient  community  of  interest, 
prejudice,  and  pleasure  to  make  everybody  sociable. 
The  French  gave  a  tone  of  gaiety — the  military,  both 
elevation  and  hospitality.  There  were  balls,  where 
everybody  danced  with  everybody's  wife  and  daugh 
ter.  There  were  theatricals,  where  the  most  dignified 

t  O 

gentlemen  took  parts.  It  may  be  a  mere  whim,  but  I 
think  I  never  have  elsewhere  met  such  easy  polish  and 
affability  among  gentlemen.  There  was  110  touchiness 
about  position  in  the  social  scale,  and  consequently 
neither  stiffness  nor  affectation ;  and  to  this  day,  the 
same  easy  grace  of  manner  is  notable  among  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  good  old  city. 

The  traveller,  journeying  at  that  period  from  ISTew 
York  westward,  after  leaving  Albany,  penetrated  into 
regions  where  civilization  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer  as 
he  advanced,  until  he  became  quite  certain  of  havinp- 
passed  the  ultima  thule,  when  he  would  stumble  with 
astonishment  on  our  little  community.  There  he  would 
be  welcomed  with  a  courtesy  no  less  gracious,  and  a 
hospitality  much  warmer  than  he  would  himself  have 
extended  to  a  stranger  in  the  metropolis. 


OUR     CITY.  11 

Yet  there  lie  would  behold  the  Frenchman,  riding  in 
his  two-wheeled  cart  to  market  with  white  fish  and 
onions,  and  screaming  a  rascally  patois.  Or  he  might 
observe  a  wedding  procession,  of  the  same  mercurial 
race,  driving  through  the  principal — or  rather  only — 
avenue,  at  full  speed  to  church,  two  and  two,  in  little 
antique  caleches  ;  the  bride,  of  course,  dressed  in  white, 
but  wearing  no  bonnet,  though  rejoicing  in  a  veil 
that  sweeps  the  ground,  and  her  bridesmaids  driving 
after,  as  bonnetless  as  herself — a  happy  state  of  things 
to  which  the  dear  ladies  of  the  present  day  are  fast 
returning. 

As  he  sauntered  along  up  the  street,  he  would  see 
old-fashioned  buildings,  stores  and  dwellings  forming  a 
promiscuous  row,  with  high  gables  and  dormer-windows, 
roofs  peaked  like  Vandyke  hats,  with  their  edges 
notched  and  painted  red,  and  doors  panelled  into  four 
parts,  and  opening  by  subdivisions,  like  modern  win 
dow-shutters.  Motley  groups,  consisting  of  French, 
Americans,  and  Indians,  sit  with  their  sociable  pipes 
enjoying  confabulations  made  up  of  words,  nods,  shrugs, 
and  the  impenetrable  "  ugh  !  ugh  !  "  of  the  taciturn  red 
man.  Peeping  into  the  halls  and  rooms  as  he  passed, 
he  might  here  and  there  discern  a  carpet,  but  generally 
the  floors  were  covered  with  Indian  mats.  The  shops 
would  be  filled  with  bales  of  furs,  gaudy-colored  calicoes 
— known  as  Indian  calicoes — mococks  of  maple  sugar, 
broidered  with  painted  porcupine  quills,  deerskins, 
moccasins,  and  1W''"T"  •-:-1'-' 


12  SHOKPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

are  now  palmed  off  upon   the  curious  and  credulous 
stranger  at  Niagara. 

Often  he  may  meet  on  the  sidewalk  an  Indian — some 
dark  Potowattimie,  or  tall,  painted  Sac  or  Fox — one  of 
Nature's  own  noblemen,  erect  and  martial  in  his  bear 
ing,  and  with  a  single  ridge  of  stiff,  black  hair,  standing 
like  the  crest  of  a  helmet  on  his  head;  or,  peradven- 
ture,  groups  of  "VVinnebagoes,  with  blue  blankets  on 
their  handsome  squaws,  while  their  own  arms,  ears,  and 
noses  would  jingle  with  silver  ornaments  ;  or,  skulking 
along,  some  thievish  craven  of  a  Mennomonie,  whose 
name  was  no  less  a  term  of  reproach  among  the  nobler 
tribes,  than  that  of  the  Samaritan  with  the  disdainful 
children  of  Judah.  Passing  above  the  town,  he  might 
find  large,  conical,  birch-bark  tents  pitched  on  the  long 
slope  of  the  river  bank,  and  graceful,  light  pirogues 
drawn  up  in  regular  rows  on  the  shore ;  these  belong  to 
the  Indians,  whom  he  may,  if  it  chance  to  be  payment 
season,  behold  in  hundreds,  or  even  thousands.  Succo 
tash  is  boiling  in  huge  iron  or  brass  pots  over  the  fires. 
A  small  army  of  famished,  wolfish-looking  dogs  lie 
around,  winking  lazily  in  the  sun ;  and  no  smaller  army 
of  naked  children  are  running  every  where — some 
pitching  bright  coppers,  others  shooting  with  their  bows 
and  arrows,  and  others  swimming  and  diving  in  the  lim 
pid  water ;  while  around  on  the  trees  or  fence,  or  sides 
of  the  wigwams,  he  may  behold  many  infant  papooses 
sleeping  in  their  hanging  cradles  of  hide  and  birch  ;  or 
with  their  heads  strapped  back,  looking  on  the  scene 


OURCITY.  13 

with  wise,  unwinking  eyes.  They  seldom  cry,  and  are 
no  inapt  representations  of  Patience  on  a  monu 
ment. 

He  would  meet  pretty,  fawn-faced  young  squaws 
who  glance  coquettishly  at  him,  and  no  less  so  at  them 
selves,  or  rather  some  ornament,  or  little  rude  mirror 
half-concealed  on  their  persons.  Xow  and  then  one 
peeps  at  him  from  behind  the  blanket  at  the  tent-door. 
Respectable  elderly  women  would  be  sitting  around,  at 
work  on  mococks,  mats,  or  moccasins,  or  cooking  game, 
or  pilfered  chickens  in  the  sugar-boiler,  or  smoking  fish, 
depending  from  a  stick  sustained  over  the  fire  by  two 
forked  uprights.  Shame  to  the  Pale  Faces  ! — he  might 
hear  drunken  noises  issuing  from  a  lodge  here  and 
there  ;  or  worse,  see  an  Indian  and  his  wife,  or  several 
squaws  by  themselves,  alternately  caressing  each  other 
and  quarrelling,  moved  by  the  demon  that  lurks  in  fire 
water. 

There  must  be  dark  shadows  in  every  picture,  espe 
cially  in  a  picture  of  human  life. 

Gratefully,  now,  let  him  turn,  at  the  soft  sound  of  an 
Indian  flute,  played  with  no  great  skill  or  variety  of  ca 
dence,  but  plaintively,  by  some  young  dandy.  It  is  a 
reed,  into  which  holes  are  burned  for  the  gamut  of 
notes,  and  around  it  are  wound  deerskin  thongs  to  pre 
vent  splitting.  Possibly,  your  Indian  Pan  may  be 
joined  by  a  musical  brother  on  the  drum,  which  is 
naught  else,  after  all,  than  a  species  of  rude  banjo — a 
skin  drawn  over  a  hoop,  as  everybody  knows.  Then 


1  -i  S  H  O  E  P  A  C      RECOLLECTIONS. 

fortunate  the  Gotliamite  might  deem  himself  to  witness 
an  Indian  dance  at  that  comparatively  primitive  period. 

As  he  strolls  out  further  from  the  town,  he  is  struck 
with  a  peculiarity  in  the  divisions  of  the  farms;  for 
each  one  is  but  a  narrow  strip  of  land  running  back  into 
the  woods  two  or  three  miles,  so  that  every  farmer  may 
have  a  front  on  the  river.  A  hundred  or  so  yards  from 
the  beach  stands  the  farm-house,  similar  to  those  already 
described,  with  only  more  amplitude  of  dimensions,  and 
a  broad,  indolent,  sun-loving  porch,  on  which  sleeps  an 
old  dog — practised  no  less  in  raccoon  lore  than  experi 
enced  in  swimming  after  wild-ducks.  In  cozy  famili 
arity,  an  old  cat  is  blinking  by  his  side,  or  purring  as 
she  rubs  her  electric  coat  against  his  shaggy  hair  ;  or 
perched  upon  his  back,  a  piping  chicken  is  with  diffi 
culty  balancing  itself,  as  it  picks  at  the  flies  which  buzz 
around  his  nose,  or  alight  with  a  tickling  mischief  on 
his  lazily-flapping  ears. 

In  front  of  the  house  are  the  cherry-trees,  and  in  rear 
the  pear  and  apple-orchards  ;  and  the  traveller  is  sur 
prised  to  find  the  best  of  fruit  thus  far  beyond  the  pale 
of  civilization — fruits  brought  from  sunny  France,  and 
planted  by  the  skillful  Jesuit ;  apples,  red  to  the  core, 
large  and  luscious  ;  cherries  that  rival  nectarines ;  and 
pears  of  every  variety,  and  of  every  season,  from  July 
to  November.  Xor  will  the  patch  of  onions  escape  his 
notice  :  it  is  a  Frenchman's  flower-garden — the  invari 
able  concomitant  of  every  family  who  may  claim  a  foot 
square  <>f  mother  earth.  The  fish-net  or  seine  is 


OUR     CITY.  15 

stretched  on  the  fence.  The  long,  flint-lock  duck  gnn, 
with  leathern  pouch  and  powder-horn,  is  hung  on 
wooden  hooks  in  the  hall.  The  canoe  is  drawn  up  on 
the  beach. 

But  hark  !  you  hear  the  sound  of  distant  voices  come 
stealing  over  the  water.  Turn  towards  the  river.  See 
a  long  pirogue,  or  more  ample  Mackinaw  boat — per 
haps  a  little  fleet  of  them  in-  a  single  line,  manned  by 
voyajeurs,  or  courreursdebois,  and  loaded  with  packs  of 
peltries.  The  oarsmen  have  fitted  out  at  Mackinaw,  to 
appear  in  style  at  Detroit— the  greater  station,  and 
nearer  civilization.  Probably  the  present  is  the  glad 
occasion  to  which  they  have  looked  forward,  and  they 
have  talked  over  their  plans  concerning  it  for  many, 
many  months.  Each  gar$on  h/is  a  sash  around  his 
waist,  and  pulls  a  red  oar.  They  keep  perfect  time — 
and  it  is  joyous  quick  time — with  the  notes  of  a  French 
song  which  was  chanted  in  France  a  century  ago : 

"  Jllalbrooks  s'en  va  t'a  guerrah  !  " 

Or  perchance  the  air  is  one  you  may  not  recognize: 

"A  Lon-don  day. 
S'en  va  couchcr  !  " 

No  music  could  be  more  lively  or  inspiring.  It  comes 
over  the  water — is  accompanied  by  the  plash  of  oars. 
It  is  roared  out  with  the  utmost  spirit,  too,  by  that  most 
glorious  of  all  instruments,  the  human  voice.  It  has 
pealed  through  the  woods,  and  over  the  rivers  and  lakes, 


16  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

for  thousands  of  miles.  It  has  animated  those  brave 
adventurers  in  camp,  at  portage,  through  summer  and 
winter,  rain  and  snow,  sickness,  peril,  and  death ;  and 
now,  joy !  joy !  it  greets  the  steeples  of  St.  Ann  !  The 
children  run  out  of  the  houses,  down  to  the  river  shore, 
to  hear  it ;  the  maiden  turns  pale,  and  blushes,  and  hur 
ries  to  the  door ;  the  old  man  hobbles  out  and  waves 
his  hat.  Troops  of  people  rush  down  to  the  wharves 
to  see  them  land;  and  such  shouts  of  welcome  and 
rejoicing  never  were  known  before. 


PLEASANTRIES.  17 


CHAPTER    II. 

PLEASANTRIES. 

Stilled  is  the  hum  that  through  the  hamlet  broke, 
When  round  the  ruins  of  their  ancient  oak 
The  peasants  flocked  to  hear  the  minstrel  play, 
And  games  and  carols  closed  the  busy  day. 

ROGERS. 

An  !  that  was  a  happy  time  for  everybody.  Our 
little  community  was  not  yet  divided  on  the  question  of 
Bibles  in  schools,  or  wine  on  the  side-boards.  Slavery 
was  little  talked  of,  and  as  for  disunion — the  mere  word 
was  considered,  by  the  veriest  Kenuclc,  as  a  profanation 
of  human  language. 

But  as  settlers  from  New  England  began  to  thicken 
among  us — Bostonicuns  they  were  indiscriminately  de 
nominated — it  gradually  came  to  light  that  our  lively 
little  community  were  scarce  a  grain  better  than  the 
wicked,  nay  than  the  very  heathen  ;  witness  the  fiddling 
and  dancing  on  Sunday  evenings  (and  pleasant  Sunday 
evenings  they  were  deemed  by  us,  in  our  dreadful  igno 
rance),  wherever  there  was  any  little  neighborhood  of 
French  people — on  the  great  wide  porch,  or  beneath 
trees  on  the  grass ;  or,  if  in  the  house,  with  the  doors 


IS  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  windows  thrown  wide  open.  And  there  were  the 
prettiest  and  most  mischievous-eyed  French  girls, 
dancing  away  for  dear  life  with  the  good-looking,  frank- 
mannered  voyajeurs,  or  courreurs  de  bois,  in  their  red, 
yellow,  or  green  sashes,  long  black  hair,  and  blue  calico 
shirts.  Such  abominations  attracted  the  "growing 
attention"  of  the  strict  sober-sides  from  the  land  of  Jon 
athan  Edwards,  as  he  passed  these  dens  of  Apollyon,  on 
his  way  to  the  place  where  prayer  was  wont  to  be 
made.  Then  \vas  there  not  racing  to  church  the  year 
round,  and  racing  home  again  ?  And  were  there  not 
regular  trotting  matches  on  the  afternoons  of  the  great 
days  of  the  church,  which  brought  the  people  in  from 
the  country,  up  and  down  the  river?  Especially,  was 
there  ever  anything  like  it  in  the  winter  season,  when 
the  wicked  river  would  even  wink  at  these  atrocities  by 
freezing  over,  so  that  nothing  was  seen  on  Sunday  after 
noons  but  carioles  turned  up  in  front,  in  a  curl  like  a 
skate,  gliding,  or  rather  flying,  over  the  ice,  two  and 
two?  The  little  Canadian  ponies  held  their  tails  up  in 
the  air  like  banners,  and  their  noses  protruding  into  the 
clouds,  or  snorting  between  their  legs — they  trotting 
like  mad,  while  the  gar$ons  whooped  like  Indians, 
shouting,  whey  !  avance !  arriez  !  ever  and  anon  steal 
ing  a  flashing  kiss  from  the  bright  demoiselles  at  their 
sides. 

Then  on  Easter  morning,  was  not  the  church-yard  of 
St.  Ann's  fairly  riotous  with  boys  cracking  painted 
eggs  ?  Nay,  in  the  same  precincts,  were  not  idolatries 


PLEASANTRIES.  19 

frequently  committed?  Was  not  the  Host  carried  in 
procession  by  chanting  Jesuits  and  nuns,  to  a  high 
mound  called  Mount  Calvary,  where  there  was  a  huge 
cross,  and  beneath  which  lay  the  tomb  of  our  Saviour? 
Doubt  not  that  these  abominations  smelt  in  the  nostrils 
of  the  sons  of  the  Puritans. 

But,  in  the  time  of  my  boyhood,  the  feud  had  not 
taken  any  religious  turn  among  the  boys,  who,  I  must 
confess,  were  very  far  behind  the  boys  of  the  present 
day,  and  knew  little  of  religious  controversies,  and 
talked  not  dogmatically  of  these,  nor  of  the  various 
ologies  in  which  the  present  juvenile  generation  are  so 
good  and  wise.  There  was,  however,  a  feud  ;  it  was 
the  boys  of  one  schoolyard  against  the  boys  of  another 
schoolyard,  and  easily  waxed  warm,  in  consequence  of 
any  collision,  invasion,  or  interference.  It  might  occur 
over  a  game  of  ball,  or  the  schism  might  arise  over  a 
combat  between  individuals  of  the  two  opposing  schools, 
•which  would  always  lead  to  a  choice  of  champions,  and 
wager  by  battle  to  settle  the  respective  merits;  but 
which  generally  raised  new  grounds  of  controversy,  and 
involved  greater  numbers,  till  each  and  every  member 
of  one  community  stood  ready  to  thrash  each  and  every 
member  of  equal  size  on  the  other  side. 

But  as  I  have  already  hinted,  the  quarrel  was  not 
bad  enough  to  be  stigmatized  as  a  religious  quarrel.  In 
fact  there  were  many  Catholic  boys  in  the  Protestant 
school.  And  then  they  fought  manfully  against  the 
Arabs,  as  the  enemy  was  called.  War  was  usually  car- 


20  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

ried  on  by  words,  sometimes  by  fisticuffs,  and  occasion 
ally  stones  flew.  And  it  was  a  curious  tact  in  boy 
phenomena,  that  those  who  had  the  longest  tongues  had 
the  shortest  fists,  and  flung  the  fewest  stones  in  the 
enemy's  face.  I  remember  that  once  the  windows  of 
our  school-house  were  all  smashed,  and  those  of  the 
Arabs  lying  at  a  tempting  distance  began  to  suffer, 
although  protected  by  the  awe  we  felt  for  the  church 
and  its  patron,  St.  Ann,  in  the  holy  precincts  of  whose 
skirts  it  lay.  One  after  another,  however,  holes  were 
visible  in  the  windows  of  good  St.  Ann,  till  the  swal 
lows  that  flew  in.  and  knew  not  how  to  fly  out  of  her, 
disturbed  the  devotions  of  the  congregation,  particularly 
those  of  the  wrathful  priests,  who  taught  the  school 
below  on  week-days,  and  performed  mass  above  on 
Sundays.  Whereupon  there  were,  on  befitting  occa 
sions,  watchings  on  the  part  of  the  brethren — na}r,  even 
at  unusual  hours — and  when  a  slinger  of  stones  was 
caught,  woe  be  unto  him !  for  the  gates  of  mercy  opened 
not  beneath  the  folds  of  the  black  gown. 

Things  would  sometimes  go  so  far  as  get  to  the  ears 
of  the  trustees  and  heads  of  the  respective  schools, 
which  event  would  most  likely  be  followed  up  by  a 
conference  between  grave  doctors,  but  which,  unlike 
most  scholastic  conferences,  would  result  in  an  amicable 
compromise  between  them.  But  the  upshot  of  the 
whole  matter  for  us  would  be  a  judicious  resort  to  that 
rod,  which,  Solomon  so  strongly  recommended.  I  never, 
by  the  way,  could  be  made  to  forgive  Solomon  for  that 


PLEASANTRIES.  21 

unkind  proverb  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  "  rod  '•*  was  a 
medicine  rarely  administered  to  the  young  prince,  at 
the  hands  of  good  old  King  David,  otherwise  he  never 
would  have  become  so  "spoilt"  in  his  latter  days. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  it  was  a  settled  opinion  among  the 
boys,  that  more  children  are  spoilt  by  the  abuse  of  this 
antiquated  instrument  of  torture,  than  by  the  sparing 
thereof.  And  it  is  with  great  joy  I  see,  in  the  reforms 
of  the  present  enlightenment,  a  disposition  to  do  away 
with  the  rod  ;  and  consequently  a  more  manly,  inde 
pendent,  self-sufficient,  progressive,  unbroken  set  of 
young  colts  never  have  scampered  over  the  world  than 
the  young  prize  specimens  of  the  present  day. 

The  Yicar  of  St.  Ann's  was  the  pious  and  polished 
old  missionary,  Father  Robert.  Where  this  son  of  the 
Scarlet  Lady  hid  his  cloven  foot,  I  never  knew ;  for  of 
all  men  he  was  beloved  in  our  community — even  among 
the  unco  yood  Protestants.  He  was  celebrated  in  the 
Catholic  annals  of  the  Northwest  for  his  learning,  self- 
devotion,  and  enthusiasm.  He  was  the  first  to  do  honor 
to  the  neglected  remains  of  Father  Marquette,  the 
explorer  of  the  Mississippi.  He  established  the  first 
newspaper ;  though,  whether  this  was  an  act  of  grace 
and  Christian  charity,  some  of  the  Berkeleys  of  the  day 
may  be  disposed  to  doubt.  He  was  likewise  entrusted 
with  our  interests  at  the  seat  of  the  Federal  Govern 
ment,  as  our  territorial  deputy  to  Congress,*  and  was 

*  The  real  name  of  the  gentleman  above  alluded  to  is  Father  Richard. 
The  following  is  from  Shea's  History  of  the  Catholic  Missions  : 


22  6  II  O  E  P  A  C      It  E  C  O  L  L  K  C  T  I  O  N  S  . 

acknowledged  by  everybody  at  home  as  the  best- 
hearted  and  most  agreeable  of  men.  lie  did  good  Pro 
testants  the  honor  to  respect  their  heretical  prejudices, 
and  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  their  houses. 

"Ah!  Mrs.  March,"  he  would  sometimes  say  to  my 
mother  with  great  politeness,  "  if  all  Protestants  were  as 
good  Catholics  as  you,  there  would  be  no  trouble  in  the 
world." 

Good  old  man !  he  died  before  the  evil  days  drew 
nigh,  or  ere  the  men  came  who  would  have  known  him 
not. 

There  was  yet  wanting  in  our  cup  another  element  of 

"  Soon  after  the  outbreak  of  that  terrible  war  on  religion  (the  French 
Revolution),  the  active  and  lat  rious  Sulpitian  Gabriel  Richard,  was 
stationed  at  Detroit.  As  early  as  1799,  he 

visited  Arbre  Croche.  where  the  Ottowas  of  Mackinaw  then  were.  The 
memory  of  the  Jesuit  missionaries  was  still  fresh.  Tradition  had  handed 
do\vn  the  death  of  Marquette,  invested  with  ornaments  of  romance;  and 
many  were  yet  alive  who  could  point  to  the  favorite  walk  trodden  by 
Du  Jaunay  while  reciting  his  breviary.  *  *  *  *  Richard 
visited  the  shores  of  [Lake]  Michigan  in  1821,  and  was  conducted  by  the 
Indians  to  the  spot  where  Marquette  had  been  first  buried,  and  where,  as 
Richard  supposes,  his  remains  still  lay.  To  honor  the  founder  of  Macki 
naw,  he  raised  a  wooden  cross  at  the  spot,  in  the  presence  of  eight 
Ottawas  and  three  Frenchmen,  and  with  his  penknife  cut  on  the  humble 
monument  (the  only  one  ever  raised  to  the  honor  of  the  discoverer  of 

the  Mississippi). 

'  Fr.  Hi.  Marquet, 
l>ie.l  here,  9th  May,  1675.'" 

The  fortunes  of  Marquette,  Allonez,  Brebeuf,  Richard,  and  other 
northwestern  missionaries  and  explorers,  form  not  the  least  poetic  part 
of  our  legendary  lore.  I  am  surprised  that  the  field  has  been  suffered 
to  lie  so  completely  neglected  by  our  litterateurs. 


PLEASANTRIES.  23 

happy  discord  considered  now  indispensable  in  every 
well-organized  city — the  foreigner  question.  We 
scarcely  knew  what  foreigners  were,  except  as  brethren 
in  pursuit  of  fortune  and  happiness.  The  Frenchman 
who  left  his  cherries  to  the  birds,  his  sheep  to  the  dogs, 
and  his  fish-seine  to  le  diable,  for  the  purpose  of  shoul 
dering  his  musket  at  the  call  of  General  Hull,  would 
have  been  astonished  to  have  been  branded  as  a 
foreigner.  And  as  for  the  English  or  Scotch  fur  trader, 
whose  packs  had  been  pillaged  by  the  British  at  Macki 
naw,  whose  money  had  flowed  freely  as  his  blood  would 
have  flowed  in  defence  of  the  town,  and  who  cursed 
"  Old  Hull "  as  a  traitor,  or  pitied  him  as  a  coward — no 
one  ever  thought  of  him  as  a  foreigner.  In  fact  we  all 
dwelt  together  harmoniously,  to  the  best  of  my  recol 
lection,  and  knew  no  more  distinction  of  blood  or 
nationality  than  they  are  innocently  supposed  to  know 
in  heaven. 


24  SHOEPAC     EECOLLECTIOXS. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

OUK   FAMILY. 

Aye,  sir :  to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes, 
Is  to  be  one  pick'd  out  of  ten  thousand. 

HAMLET. 

SUCH  then  was  rny  native  town,  or  city,  as  its  inhab 
itants  have  jealously  called  it  from  time  immemorial ; 
and  such  was  the  society  in  its  primitive  state. 

My  father  was  an  Englishman.  Being  a  younger  son, 
his  chances  in  merry  old  England  seemed  slim  enough. 
With  what  little  cash  he  could  command,  he  had 
departed  from  the  ancestral  halls,  in  the  north  of  Eng 
land,  near  the  little  town  of  Keswick,  for  America.  He 
was  a  mere  youth  when  he  landed  at  New  York ;  but 
fortunately  his  letters  secured  the  good  will  of  Mr.  Jokii 
Jacob  Astor,  then  an  active  fur  trader,  who  at  once 
appointed  him  an  agent  in  the  American  Fur  Company, 
and  without  any  delay  he  set  out  for  the  little  city  of 
Detroit,  the  head-quarters  of  his  future  business  opera 
tions. 

The  only  relatives  of  my  father,  settled  in  America, 
were  the  family  of  an  uncle,  who  was  a  professor  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  Massachusetts.  Thither  it 


*  OUKFAMILY.  25 

had  been  the  original  intention  of  Mr.  March  to  pro 
ceed,  especially  as  the  worthy  professor  had  boasted  no 
little  of  the  beauty  of  his  two  daughters;  and  my  father, 
little  dreaming  of  ever  wooing  among  the  native  daugh 
ters  of  the  land,  thought  possibly  the  time  might  arrive 
when  a  wife  would  be  desirable.  Besides,  Mr.  March 
supposed  he  should  need  the  advice  of  his  uncle,  with 
reference  to  choosing  himself  an  abiding-place  in  the 
country  to  which  he  had  come  for  the  achievement  of 
home  and  fortune.  But  the  friendly  advice  and  sub 
stantial  offer  of  Mr.  Astor,  were  the  means  of  changing 
this  plan,  as  we  have  seen. 

Mr.  March  had  not  been  long  settled  at  Detroit 
before  his  heart  became  conscious  of  the  charms  of  my 
mother,  then  a  very  young  girl,  the  daughter  of  an  offi 
cer  of  the  American  army,  stationed  with  his  regiment 
at  our  city — Major  Fanshawe,  3d  infantry.  Notwith 
standing  her  youthfulness,  such  was  the  impetuosity 
with  which  Mr.  March  urged  his  tender  suit,  that  my 
mother  found  herself  married  at  seventeen,  and  my 
father's  uncle,  the  professor,  never  wrote  to  him  from 
that  day. 

All  his  life,  hitherto,  Mr.  March  had  been  an  impul 
sive  character.  But  from  the  day  of  his  marriage,  such 
was  the  curb  he  imposed  upon  this  trait,  that  a  radical 
change  ensued,  and  from  one  of  the  rashest  of  men,  he 
advanced  to  be  one  of  the  most  gentle,  patient,  and 
deliberate.  This  change  became  of  frequent  service  tc 
him,  not  only  in  his  family  government — for  I  take  it, 

2 


26  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

that  a  man  entrusted  by  God  with  a  family,  should  be 
patience  and  deliberation  personified — but  it  was  more 
extensively  useful  in  his  dealings  with  the  wild  sons  of 
the  forest.  To  any  stranger,  Mr.  March  would  appear 
in  the  mild  light  of  a  gentle  spirit  whom  nothing  might 
ruffle.  But  on  many  occasions,  Pigeon-hawk,  the  name 
by  which  he  was  known  among  the  Indians,  had  dis 
played  more  of  the  fierceness  of  the  hawk  than  of  the 
meekness  of  the  dove,  particularly  when  his  anger  was 
aroused  by  treachery  or  oppression.  In  the  main,  the 
children  of  the  woods  respected  my  father  for  his  vir 
tues,  and  thought  him  very  honest — for  a  white  man. 

The  several  children  that  clustered  upon  the  parental 
boughs  displayed,  even  at  no  late  period  of  their  child- 
history,  greater  or  less  evidence  of  their  connection  with 
the  paternal  trunk,  not  unmingled,  however,  with  the 
tokens  of  my  mother's  excellence.  In  early  life,  she 
appeared  little  other  than  warm  affection  and  easy  good 
humor ;  but  time  and  trial  proved  that  there  lay  dor 
mant  energy  itself. 

There  were  four  of  us  :  John,  the  eldest,  had  inherited 
his  father's  quick  boldness  of  spirit ;  my  brother  G nil- 
ford  his  more  deliberate  fire ;  Maud,  our  only  sister, 
standing  in  age  between  John  and  Guilford,  gave  signs 
of  patience,  tethered  with  courage,  yet  both  disguised 
under  a  self-distrust,  often  laughable  to  behold,  so  super 
fluous  and  surprising  was  it  in  its  manifestations ;  as  for 
me,  I  may  in  all  modesty  be  allowed  to  show  myself  out 
in  the  course  of  this  eventful  history. 


O  U  R     F  A  M  I  L  Y  .  27 

And  here  I  may  as  well  present  my  apologies  to  the 
courteous  reader  for  the  absence  in  these  pages  of  the 
one  thing  needful  in  modern  novels.  It  is  beyond  my 
power  to  produce  a  fashionable  infant  phenomenon. 
Low  as  it  shall  be  our  lot  to  descend  into  the  pits  of 
misery,  we  cannot  descend  far  enough  to  fish  one  up. 
It  would  be  rare  delectation  to  happen  upon  a  found 
ling,  or  still  more  abandoned  yet  beautiful  imp,  follow 
him  in  his  career  from  his  origin  in  some  odoriferous 
back  alley  in  the  City  of  Destruction,  through  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  led  on  by  the  magic  of  some  Ari 
adne  clew  or  moral  perfection,  on  through  the  Augean 
Stables,  the  Dungeon  of  the  Giant  Despair,  the  nets  and 
pitfalls  of  a  shocking  world,  on  to  the  foot  of  the  scaf 
fold,  whence  to  rescue  and  reproduce  the  hero,  striding 
through  Fifth  Avenue  palaces,  where  he  is  astonished  to 
find  himself  perfectly  at  home — becomes  leader  of  the 
ton,  president  of  a  bank  for  the  benefit  of  obscure  pau 
pers,  marries  the  mayor's  daughter,  and  dies  on  a  bed 
with  yellow  satin  coverings.  No !  I  give  thee  fair 
warning,  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  such  fascinating 
fungi. 

The  family  tree  flourished  in  a  healthy  soil.  And  yet 
it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  such  prodigies  have  blessed 
the  world — whether  German  myths  or  genuine  Greeks, 
or  of  no  particular  paternity  save  the  city  fathers — 
sleeping  beneath  porches  or  dry-goods'  boxes,  a  little 
unwashed  moral  Athens,  with  a  severely-just  ostracism 
and  a  profound  Areopagus,  and  like  that  renowned 


28  8HOEPAG     RECOLLECTIONS. 

people,  possessing  all  the  virtues,  save  the  unimportant 
ten  virtues  of  the  decalogue.  Alas  ! — again  I  sigh 
alas 1 — that  it  was  not  our  good  fortune  to  be  thrown  so 
pitifully  low,  to  rise  again  so  transcendentally  high. 
Yet  bear  with  me,  O  lover  of  a  less  dazzling,  a  more 
simple  nature !  My  road  winds  over  an  uneven 
country,  such  as  many  have  travelled,  and  even  now 
diverges  off 

"  To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls." 


SUMMONED     FROM     ON     HIGH.  29 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SUMMONED   FKOM   ON   HIGH. 

Beyond  is  all  Abyss, 
Eternity,  whose  end  no  eye  can  reach. 

MILTOX. 

I  KEMEMBEE  a  little  of  my  father.  A  tall,  not  stout, 
mild-visaged  mail,  with  a  grey  hair  here  and  there 
streaking  his  head. 

One's  attention  was  always  attracted  to  his  mouth, 
where  there  presided  a  not  uncertain,  though  not  quite 
apparent  expression,  not  undecided,  nor  yet  with  the 
least  strain  of  reserve,  much  less  of  closeness.  But  it 
was  an  exhibition  of  power  under  power.  If  mouth 
might  say  what  the  tongue  would  not,  his  mouth  said, 
"  this  must  be  curbed,  this  is  a  folly."  Hast  thou  ever 
seen  such  a  mouth  ?  In  spite  of  what  that  "  expression" 
might  say,  I  think  that  thou,  my  friendly  reader,  wouldst 
call  it  no  "  folly  "  at  all,  but  rather  a  strength  ;  and  a 
glance  at  my  father's  eyes  would  assure  one  that  the 
strength  was  good. 

Yet  Mr.  March,  as  well  as  Mr.  March's  mouth, 
thought  best  to  hold  a  tight  rein. 

Why  he  took  so  special  an  interest  in  me,  I  never 


30  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

could  prevail  on  my  mother  to  disclose.  Such,  how 
ever,  was  the  fact.  But  I  was  the  plainest,  and,  I  rather 
suspect,  the  dullest  of  the  family,  and  no  favorite  at  first 
with  even  my  excellent  mother.  And  so  it  may  have 
happened,  after  all,  that  I  fell  to  my  father  for  his  sym 
pathy  and  compassion.  This  gave  me  some  pride,  this 
apparent  partiality  over  the  other  children,  who  I  always 
fancied  envying  me.  He  always  seated  me  next  him 
self -at  table,  and  cut  up  my  food  very  nicely  ;  and  they 
have  all  since  declared  that  this  early  care  he  took  is  the 
reason  why  I  am  an  inch  the  tallest  of  the  three 
brothers. 

I  remember  that  there  was  a  desk — is  not  that  desk 
my  own  sacred  property  at  this  moment  ? — with  very 
tall  legs,  I  then  thought,  standing  in  one  corner  of  the 
room  Mr.  March  used  as  his  library,  but  which  was  our 
favorite  sitting-room.  Whenever  he  came  home  from 
his  business,  and  particularly  after  any  long  absence,  he 
would  go  straight  to  the  desk,  and  draw  forth  cakes  and 
confections,  or  sometimes  even  a  more  valuable  gift.  It 
was  always  well  known  who  for.  At  any  rate,  I  knew 
better  where  they  went  than  how  they  ever  got  there, 
which  to  this  day  remains  as  perfect  a  mystery  as  the 
means  by  which  the  stones  were  laid  at  Baalbec. 

Then  it  was  my  peculiar  destiny  never  to  touch  a  dish 
of  glass,  or  other  breakable,  without  the  ensuing  of  a 
crash  ;  and  furthermore,  it  never  was  my  good  fortune 
to  escape  therefrom  without  an  energetic  thump  of  the 
thimbled  finger  of  my  mother,  or  a  sly  pinch  from  my 


SUMMONED     FKOM     ON     HIGH.  31 

careful  sister  Maud.  But  my  father  would  always  say : 
"  Never  mind,  my  son,  it's  nothing." 

And  then  would  he  rub  the  bruise  softly  with  his  deli 
cate  hand,  and  under  his  gentle  protection  and  reassur 
ance  I  would  soon  recover  the  self-respect  I  had  lost — 
that  lay  on  the  floor  beneath  the  mass  of  ruined  crockery. 

Only  to  rise,  however,  and  sin  just  so  again. 

My  dear,  dear  father !  "What  though  he  stood  well 
among  his  neighbors  ?  What  though  he  commanded 
the  only  uniform  militia  company  our  city  then  boaoted 
— the  French  Hussars  ?  What  though  a  vestryman,  and 
the  chief  pillar  of  St.  Paul's  ?  What  though  already 
nominated,  and  soon  to  be  unanimously  elected,  the  fede 
ral  representative  for  the  whole  Northwest?  Did  not 
the  messenger  from  a  higher  court  stand  knocking  at  tho 
door? 

I  was  only  seven  years  old.  We  had  just  returned 
from  a  family  visit  to  a  gentleman's  farm  that  lay  ten 
miles  or  more  down  the  river. 

Those  beautiful  river  banks  !  With  what  quiet  plea 
sure  he  enjoyed  their  loveliness.  I  remember  his  looks 
as  he  pointed  them  out  to  us.  The  red  tower  windmills, 
with  long  arms  and  dragon  teeth.  The  green  and  yellow 
slopes,  dotted  over  with  white  sheep ;  the  crimson 
orchards  ;  the  brown  nut  trees ;  the  autumn-damasked 
drapery  of  the  forest ;  the  darting  squirrel  we  saw,  and 
BO  eagerly  longed  to  catch,  and  which  Mr.  March  so 
cruelly  shot !  I  remember  it  all,  as  if  a  pageant  of  ye*s- 
terday  ;  and  a  sense  of  beauty  entered  my  dreamy, 


32  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

listless  soul,  that  seems  now  to  have  come  from  an  angel. 
Shortly  afterwards  came  sorrow ;  and  Beauty  and  Sor 
row  have  ever  visited  me  together,  like  loving  twin 
sisters. 

Our  visit  lasted  a  week.  "We  set  out  to  return  at  sun 
set.  It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night.  The  canoe 
was  loaded  down  with  the  good  things  we  brought  away. 
There  were  bushels  of  hickory  nuts,  and  a  basket  of 
liens'  eggs,  with  some  great  goose  eggs  that  took  my  eye 
— I  had  found  them,  too,  hid  away  somewhere  under  the 
barn  ;  some  white  wool  for  Mrs.  March  to  spin  and 
weave  into  home  made  woolen  sheets,  a  bag  of  the 
reddest  apples  in  the  world,  and  a  little  box  in  which  I 
brought  home  a  pair  of  doves.  But  the  air  was  laden 
with  miasma.  Mr.  March,  Maud,  all  of  us  except  Mrs. 
March,  were  in  a  few  days  successively  prostrated  with 
the  fever.  My  mother  nursed  us  all.  Nothing  seemed 
to  bewilder  or  confound  her.  Nothing  was  too  arduous 
for  her  to  do.  She  was  everywhere  at  the  same  moment. 
When  the  house  grew  still  at  night,  she  would  suffer  the 
neighbors,  wTho  were  ever  ready,  to  relieve  her.  But 
not  a  voice  of  pain  issued  from  a  room  but  it  reached 
her  ear,  and  she  stood  over  the  bed  witli  cooling  drink 
or  soothing  balm.  Her  very  hand  was  magical  on  my 
own  heated  temples. 

After  a  while,  one  after  another  recovered,  save  one — 
the  one,  the  all  in  all  to  my  mother  and  to  me.  I  remem 
ber  some  person  taking  me  silently  by  the  hand  one 
Sabbath  morning.  Every  night  on  retiring  to  our  room, 


SUMMONED     FKOM     ON     HIGH.  33 

my  father  was  accustomed  to  come  in  gently  after  Guil- 
ford  and  me,  and  kneel  down  on  the  floor  at  the  bed 
side.  This  was  likewise  his  custom  on  Sunday 
mornings.  But  during  the  last  few  weeks  we  had 
struggled  through  our  prayers  the  best  we  could  alone, 
and  the  burden  of  our  petitions  was  for  him.  Our 
thoughts  were  full  of  this  subject  now,  when  one  came 
to  lead  us  into  his  apartment.  As  soon  as  we  reached 
the  bedside  we  knelt  down  and  clasped  our  little  hands, 
ready  for  him  to  begin  the  supplication ;  but  with  a 
quick  sob,  the  female  who  had  brought  us  caught  me  in 
her  arms,  turned  down  the  sheet  which  covered  his  face, 
and — 

Oh  God!  was  I,  was  I  fatherless?  How  came  it  so? 
The  latest  we  had  heard  was,  that  he  grew  better. 

It  could  not,  should  not  be  ! 

I  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck  as  well  as  I  could. 
By  this  time,  Guilford  was  there  too.  We  kissed  him 
long  and  convulsively.  Oh  !  how  cruelly  cold  he  was. 
The  cold  entered  my  bosom  and  congealed  the  fountain 
of  tears.  They  carried  me  awaj  as  one  dumb,  and  for 
the  first  time  I  began  now  to  know,  even  thus  early, 
what  solitude  is. 

But  the  sense  of  solitude  is  not  always  weakening.  I 
felt  strong,  too,  under  the  weight  of  a  great,  intense 
grief,  and  that  is  next  in  strength  to  intense  passion. 
Child!  there  were  no  tears  for  me.  To  weep  would 
have  been  sweet.  Tears  are  a  sort  of  company. 

Soon  the  vacancy  of  my  little  chamber  grew  oppres- 

2* 


34  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

sive.  The  walls  seemed  never  so  wide  apart — the 
ceiling  never  so  high.  Objects  became  suddenly  and 
largely  idealized.  There  seemed  indeed  a  height — it 
was  heaven.  There,  too,  were  depths — profound  depths, 
down  which,  I  remember  I  would  awake,  as  if  falling, 
in  my  half-conscious  moments.  In  fact,  there  suddenly 
rose  around  me  a  world  :  I  never  had  known  it  before 
• — never  thought  of  it ;  but  here  it  was  now,  stretching 
on,  and  on,  and  around  me,  near  me  and  afar  off;  and 
I  alone !  alone !  alone ! 

I  wandered  about  the  house  to  escape  the  dreariness 
of  this  world,  seeking  companionship,  but  found  none ; 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  tears,  or,  what  was 
worse,  the  sudden  stoppage  of  tears  whenever  they  saw 
me  coming,  while  they  glanced  stealthily  at  me  and 
whispered  to  each  other, 

"  Hush  !  there  he  is,  poor  child,  poor  boy,  poor  little 
Walter!" 

As  if  I  were  walking  on  some  terrible  crag,  away 
down  below  them — as  if  I  were  the  only  one  of  them 
all  to  be  pitied. 

Was  I  ?     We  shall  see. 


THE     DEPARTURE.  35 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  DEPARTURE. 

Thou  look'st  a  very  statue  of  surprise, 
As  if  a  lightning  blast  had  dried  thee  up, 
And  had  not  left  thee  moisture  for  a  tear. 

MARTYR'S  TIUOLEON. 

MANY  neighbors,  friends,  and  even  strangers,  came  to 
attend  the  last  sad  offices.  Father  Robert  was  there, 
and  wept  like  a  child.  Here  was  a  sight  the  brave  old 
Indian  missionary  could  not  brave.  There  were  many 
half  stifled  sobs.  I  heard  their  steps  as  they  carried  my 
father  along  the  hall — slow,  shuffling,  hollow,  dragging 
steps,  sounding  more  loudly,  or  at  least  more  lingeringly 
distinct,  than  a  firm  loud  tread.  Those  dead,  dull  steps, 
marching  to  their  own  muffled  music,  the  mournful 
utteririgs  of  the  Hall  to  the  Master,  who  shall  come 
there  no  more  as  of  yore  bringing  joy.  How  mute, 
inanimate  things  do  sometimes  speak  ! 

A  sweet,  kind  little  woman — I  wonder  who  she  may 
have  been  ? — came  to  my  chamber,  desiring  me  to  go 
with  her  to  the  churchyard.  I  had  no  such  material 
curiosity.  And  she  stood  by  my  side  there,  as  I  watched 
with  my  white  face  at  the  window. 

The  procession  formed  and  moved  away. 


36  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Father  Robert,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  handker 
chief,  and  Mr.  Cradle,  our  own  excellent  clergyman  of 
St.  Paul's,  Catholic  and  Protestant  side  by  side,  led  the 
train.  Clumsily  mounted  and  clumsily  dressed  hussars, 
with  drawn  sabres,  and  a  dreary  band  of  music,  pre 
ceded  the  hearse.  It  was  followed  by  his  own  horse, 
with  shabrack  and  equipments ;  a  sabre  dangled  from 
the  pommel,  a  blue  cloak  was  thrown  over  the  saddle, 
and  boots  were  in  the  stirrups,  reversed. 

Alas !  that  mournful  sight — the  riderless  horse. 

Then  came  a  little  body  of  freemasons,  and  a  mecha 
nics'  society,  with  regalia  in  weeds ;  the  gentlemen  of 
the  government,  those  of  the  Indian  agency,  fur  traders, 
with  Ijieir  employes,  whose  bronzed  faces  were  moist 
ened  with  tears,  for  such  are  the  brave  men  that  weep — 
for  others — French  people,  and  other  citizens  of  the 
town.  Countrymen  followed  ;  even  stalwart  Indians, 
in  their  plumes,  loitered  at  the  skirts  of  the  procession, 
lending  a  dusky  fringe  to  the  dream-like  pageant. 

I  would  have  given  worlds  for  the  muscular  power  to 
turn  away  from  the  scene,  or  my  very  life  for  a  tear  to 
blot  it  out  from  my  mind  for  ever ;  yet  by  some  irresisti 
ble  force  was  I  chained  to  the  window,  with  my  gaze 
fixed  down  upon  them  till  they  had  all  wound  away 
out  of  sight. 

For  the  first  time  since  he  died,  I  now  asked  to  see 
my  mother.  My  companion,  the  kind  little  weeping 
woman,  led  me  by  the  hand  to  the  apartment.  I  cannot, 
and  would  not  describe  the  scene.  In  me  she  saw — I 


THE     DEPARTURE.  37 

know  not  what,  but  she  clasped  me  in  her  arms,  and 
strained  me  to  her  heart,  weeping  as  if  it  would  break? 
and  murmuring  over  and  over  again  : 

«  His  child  !     His  darling  Walter  !  " 

Oh  !  how  I  now  began  to  love  my  poor  mother  !  The 
doctor  came,  and  I  waa  borne  out.  I  did  not  then  know, 
nor  till  long  afterwards,  of  the  extreme  danger  through 
which  she  passed.  I  lingered  near  her  door  till  dark. 
Then  Guilford  came,  and  gently  urged  me  with  him  to 
our  own  bedroom. 

We  knelt  down  together.     Guilford  began  : 

"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven  !" 

Now  the  tears  burst  forth  as  a  torrent.  We  fell  upon 
each  other's  necks,  or  rather  I  upon  Guilford's,  for  he 
was  always  much  the  more  manly,  and  the  first  natural 
child-like  grief  I  knew  came  welling  up  from  the  broken 
fountains  of  the  great  depths. 

"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven  !"  Gone  !  gone  ! 
"  Oh !  who,"  I  exclaimed  to  Guilford,  "  will  now  teach 
me  my  prayers  ?  who  will  ever  take  poor  Walter's  part  ? 
who  will  cut  up  my  meat  ?  who  will  love  me  ?"  My 
brother  endeavored  to  comfort  me,  but  I  would  not. 

And  from  that  sweet,  bitter  night,  "  Our  Father,  who 
art  in  heaven "  never  rises  to  my  lips,  without  his 
image — that  pale,  gentle  presence,  those  calm,  loving 
eyes.  Yes,  in  many  a  strait,  in  darkness  and  evil,  in 
joy  and  thankfulness,  he  comes,  a  messenger  from  God, 
an  angel  friend  of  Christ. 

Since  that  night  I  have  never  been  alone. 


38  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THOSE   LEFT. 

The  adventurous  boy  that  asks  his  little  share, 
And  hies  from  home  with  many  a  gossip's  prayer, 
Turns  on  the  neighboring  hill  once  more  to  see 
The  dear  abode  of  peace  and  privacy. 

ROGERS. 

NATURE'S  "resources  were  almost  exhausted  in  my 
poor  mother  by  the  fatigues  of  many  days'  watching, 
long-strained  anxiety  and  much  overwork.  The  sudden 
and  complete  departure  of  hope  would  have  deprived 
her  of  the  little  remaining  strength ;  but  that  terrible 
loss  of  blood  which  followed  the  shock  prostrated  her  so 
completely,  that  her  doleful  wish  to  die  were  well-nigh 
accomplished.  But  all  hope  gone  in  one  direction, 
leaves  the  mind  to  fix  itself  on  new  objects  with  new 
and  better  hope.  And  now  to  combat  despairing  Life 
came  desperate  Resolution — to  live  for  her  children; 
and  new  thoughts,  sudden  desires,  new  energy,  even 
new  ambition,  began  to  prevail. 

My  mother  did  not  shut  herself  in  her  bedroom  with 
Mr.  March's  picture,  and  go  slipshod  for  a  year  and  a 
day,  according  to  the  approved  custom  of  those  who 
are  married  again  before  you  know  it.  Her  grief 


THOSE     LEFT.  89 

became  a  thing  of  life,  and  a  matter  of  hope  beyond  the 
grave. 

But  what  was  the  prospect  immediately  stretching  on 
before  us  ? 

Mr.  March  had  left  his  affairs  in  a  poor  way.  Exten 
sive  as  was  his  business,  all  his  means  were  employed 
in  schemes  which  next  year  he  hoped  to  see  produce 
the  desired  results  :  next  year,  the  ignis  fatuus  of  for 
tune-hunters,  the  maid  of  the  mist  that  draws  them  into 
the  vortex :  next  year !  the  rock  on  which  so  many 
stately  ships  have  split.  The  mind  to  calculate,  the 
hand  to  guide,  were  gone.  Everything  was  found  to  be 
inextricably  confused,  overcharged,  pledged,  mortgaged, 
embarked — nothing  brought  to  port,  nothing  matured 
to  hand  and  ready  for  use.  The  very  house  in  which 
we  dwelt,  a  large  English  cottage  built  by  himself,  was 
ours  now  only  by  courtesy.  True,  the  gentlemen  whom 
my  father  had  appointed  as  our  guardians  informed 
Mrs.  March  that  much  might  yet  be  saved  by  means  of 
suits  at  law,  but  she  had  inherited  a  repugnance  for  the 
perplexities  of  business,  and  had  a  holy  horror  of  all  chan 
cery  proceedings ;  in  fact,  the  proposition  was  rejected 
as  unworthy  the  memory  of  Mr.  March,  who  never  sued 
a  man  in  his  life. 

"  Here,  too,"  said  my  mother,  "  in  the  very  neighbor 
hood  where  he  has  been  so  beloved  !  lawsuits  !  never  ! 
Maud,  my  darling,  my  brave  lads,  we  must  work !" 

And  so  Mi's.  March  resolved  to  keep  her  family 
together  by  the  sweat  of  her  brow,  and  to  buy  back  the 


40  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

homestead,  if  so  be  God  would  bless  her  labors.  This, 
indeed,  seemed  a  great  undertaking.  Kind  neighbors 
offered  to  take  different  members  of  the  family  to  their 
homes,  and  rear  them  up  as  their  own  children. 

"  Which  of  you,  my  dear  ones,  will  go  ?"  inquired 
Mrs.  March.  "Mr.  Latrobe  will  adopt  one  of  you, 
boys,  and  Colonel  Sedgefield  wants  one  as  his  private 
secretary." 

M.  Latrobe  was  Mr.  March's  most  intimate  friend  in 
the  fur  company.  Colonel  Sedgefield  was  the  superin 
tendent  of  Indian  affairs. 

But  neither  Guilford  nor  myself  answered  the  ques 
tion  ;  as  for  John,  he  was,  according  to  the  dying  wish 
of  Mr.  March,  to  be  sent  as  soon  as  might  be  to  Cam 
bridge,  to  be  educated  under  the  care  of  his  cousins — • 
two  accomplished  women — the  daughters,  in  whose 
cause  the  professor  had  tacitly  resented  the  marriage  of 
his  nephew  to  my  mother.  Mr.  March  never  knew 
how  destitute  his  widow  was  to  become  on  his  death. 
But  his  expressed  wish  had  always  been  my  mother's 
law,  possible  or  impossible  ;  and  to  college,  by  hook  or 
by  crook,  go  Master  John  must. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Guilford  ?  you  may  be  rich  one 
of  these  days,"  my  mother  added  with  a  faint  smile. 

Guilford  hesitated  a  long  time.  At  length,  the  delib 
erate  boy  arose  from  his  seat  near  the  window  of  the 
library — wherein  we  were  all  gathered  for  a  family 
council — walked  over  to  his  mother,  who  was  standing 
near  the  blue  desk,  where  she  had  been  engaged  with 


THOSELEFT.  41 

some  papers,  and  looked  up  with  his  fine  full  face — very 
solemnly  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  motherly  love. 

"Are  you  truly  in  earnest,  mother?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  the  welfare  of  my  children  is  the  one 
great  wish  of  my  heart.  I  can  see  nothing  that  prom 
ises  so  well  for  you  in  a  worldly  view,  Guilford." 

"  Then,  mother,  who  would  be  left  to  take  care  of 
you,  and  Maud,  and  little  Walter  here,  after  John 
goes?"  He  always  looked  a  great  way  down  upon  me, 
although  but  three  years  my  senior. 

"God,  my  son,"  replied  Mrs.  March,  with  a  little 
agitation. 

This  answer  confounded  Guilford  a  moment.  Then 
he  gathered  strength. 

"  Well,  if  God  intended  that  Mr.  Latrobe  or  Colonel 
Sedgefield  was  to  bring  me  up,  he  would  have  given 
me  to  them  himself." 

Saying  which,  the  young  ethical  philosopher  walked 
back  to  his  seat  at  the  window,  with  the  air  of  the  head 
of  the  family,  and  there  entrenched  himself. 

Jghn  began  to  grow  provoked  at  this  torn-foolery,  as 
he  was  pleased  to  style  Master  Guilford's  refusal. 

"  Walter,"  he  exclaimed,  "  come,  be  a  man  ;  you  will 
have  to  go." 

But  my  mother  did  not  seem  at  all  displeased  with 
Guilford  ;  in  fact  I  thought  I  detected  a  look  of  lurking 
satisfaction.  She  now  regarded  me  very  fixedly. 

I  do.  not  know  what  my  face  replied,  but  if  ever  heart 
thumped  violent  remonstrance,  mine  did  at  that  awful 


42  8HOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

moment.  The  sense  of  home,  with  its  thousand  associa 
tions,  pervaded  me ;  that  terrific  sense  of  loneliness  in 
the  world,  which  lately  had  nearly  deprived  me  of  rea 
son,  overwhelmed  me.  I  stretched  out  my  arms  towards 
my  mother — but  paused  irresolute. 

"  Unfeeling,  unmanly  boy  1"  cried  John,  in  a  passion. 
My  mother  held  her  hands  towards  me,  and  grew  sud 
denly  pale. 

MVould  you  kill  her?"  continued  John,  as  I  stood 
hesitating.  Indeed  my  heart  smote  me. 

"  To  hold  on  at  the  apron-strings  !  to  see  your  mother 
work  with  her  own  hands  for  your  support!" 

My  heart  nearly  crushed  me.  I  looked  towards  Guil- 
ford — he  was  gazing  on  the  street ;  towards  Maud — she 
shook  her  head  imploringly ;  at  my  mother — alarm  and 
unusual  agitation  were  twitching  at  the  corners  of  her 
pale  mouth. 

"  If  I  must  go,  dear  mother,"  I  said,  "  I  will  for  your 
sake  ;  but 

Again  she  held  out  her  arms.  I  understood  it  now, 
and  leaped  into  those  eager  arms  with  a  burst  of  joyful 
tears.  She  held  me  a  moment,  then  put  me  on  my  feet, 
smiling  through  her  emotion  as  she  said  : 

"  "With  the  aid  of  that  young  gentleman,"  looking 
rather  proudly  at  Guilford,  "  I  think  we  shall  get  on 
very  well  at  home."  In  vain  John  disputed  the  point. 
John  felt  uneasy  concerning  his  own  course.  The  noble- 
hearted  fellow  threw  every  possible  objection  in  the 
way  of  his  being  so  unceremoniously  "  billeted  on  the 


THOSELEFT.  43 

family,"  as  lie  said.  But  Mrs.  March  was  a  firm  little 
woman,  though,  I  dare  say,  neither  very  brilliant,  nor, 
as  women  go,  would  she  be  voted  strong-minded.  And 
John,  seeing  no  hope  for  himself  but  to  accept  his  fate, 
had  strenuously  urged  the  plans  of  the  two  friends  of 
Mr.  March  to  relieve  our  mother,  and  place  Guilford  or 
me,  or  both  of  us,  in  the  way  of  assisting  her. 

He  knew  her  too  well  to  strive  any  longer  now,  and 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  and  satisfaction  we  sat 
around  the  little  round  table  in  the  library  on  that 
evening. 

The  wood-fire  had  not  burned  so  cheerily  since  his 
death.  The  library  was  one  of  those  little  snuggeries 
for  which  everybody  is  ready  to  desert  all  other  rooms 
in  the  house.  The  moonlight  broke  in  leafy  patches 
through  the  branches  of  the  lilac  trees,  now  in  full 
bloom.  The  glow  of  the  fire  on  the  hearth  lit  up  smiles 
on  the  pictures  of  my  father  and  M.  Latrobe,  facing 
each  other  on  the  opposite  walls ;  that  of  Mr.  March 
hung  over  the  lounge  on  one  side  of  the  fire-place,  and 
that  of  M.  Latrobe  on  the  other  side,  overlooking  the 
great  armed  and  cushioned  rocking-chair  where  my 
father  used  to  sit  so  habitually,  with  Maud  or  me  on  his 
lap  ;  or,  if  at  night,  with  his  books,  till  the  middle 
watch. 

That  wide,  open,  friendly  fire-place,  with  its  lively, 
crackling  mirth,  or  its  sweet  twilight  embers,  always 
appears  to  me  the  meet  emblem  of  a  contented,  great 
heart,  answering  back  to  your  own  joy,  and  lighting  up 


44  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

your  shadows.  And  sometimes,  surrounded  by  stran 
gers,  the  object  of  dull  remark  or  cold  criticism,  or  igno 
rant  condemnation,  how  have  I  pictured  to  myself  a 
world  of  warmth  like  unto  the  great  fire-place  at  home, 
where  every  man  should  be  greeted  with,  "  "Welcome  ! 
welcome,  brother  !"  and  a  comfortable,  snug  corner  of 
his  own ;  and  where  all  answer  to  each  other  with  the 
sympathy  and  cheer  of  shining  faces  over  the  glowing 
hearth.  Look  kindly  on  the  stranger,  gentle  friend, 
thy  looks  are  either  so  many  sweet  sunny  beams  that 
betoken  the  common  fellowship  of  true  humanity,  or  so 
many  icy  rays  that  chill  him  to  the  heart — that  freeze 
little  by  little  the  fountains  of  love — that  fill  him  with 
distrust  of  the  world  and  hatred  of  his  species.  No 
man  knows  for  how  much  of  others'  wickedness  and 
wretchedness  he  may  be  held  accountable.  A  look  of 
thine  may  breed  sorrow  in  thy  brother,  though  a  stran 
ger.  A  look  of  thine  may  do  a  good  deed,  may  shine 
from  thy  face  to  his  face,  and  be  reflected,  like  a  ray  of 
the  sun,  over  half  the  globe. 

Live,  ye  gentle  scenes  of  home  !  Light  up,  ye  bright 
fires  of  the  domestic  hearth  !  Glow,  ye  pleasant  fancies 
of  the  wood-fire !  Smile  ever,  ye  dimpled  portraits  on 
the  walls  of  childhood  !  Come  in,  ye  sweet  lilac  breezes 
that  rustle  through  the  cozy  curtains,  the  blossoms  of 
youth  and  the  airy  old  cobwebs  of  memory  are  shim 
mering  in  your  light  !  Place  may  change,  friends 
come  and  go.  hearts  grow  cold  or  wear  away  beneath 
the  drops  of  care  till  they  crumble  and  moulder 


THOSELEFT.  45 

beneath  the  clod  of  the  valley,  but  a  pleasant  home, 
where  childhood  lived  and  loved,  never  dies.  The 
memory  thereof  is  a  fortune,  an  indestructible  faculty 
of  self-renewing  joy. 

What  is  Heaven  itself  but  the  renewal  of  the  fresh 
hearts  and  delightful  pleasures  of  childhood's  home  ? 
A  happy  child  looks  forward  to  a  happy  home  above. 
The  hireling  initiated  but  too  early  in  guilt  and  misery, 
or  in  misery  without  guilt,  he  seldom  hopes  for  better 
accommodation  at  the  journey's  end ;  and  the  shadow 
of  his  childhood  descends  before  him  to  the  grave. 

Man  is  like  the  adventurer  who  treads  the  dangerous 
mountain  rocks  and  thorny  defiles  of  the  isthmus  between 
the  two  western  oceans  ;  and  blessed  is  he  who  judge th 
not  the  Pacific  of  Life  to  come  by  the  Atlantic  of  Life 
begun — but  rather  looks  back  to  the  Pacific  of  a  happy 
childhood,  and  onward  to  the  still  more  glorious  Pacific 
of  Heaven. 

Ye  who  have  little  ones  playing  around  your  knees, 
parent  or  faithful  friend  of  the  fatherless,  fill  their  silver 
cups  with  peace  and  joy ;  for  the  true  elixir  of  Life  is 
the  memory  of  a  Happy  Home. 


46  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   MAGROYS. 

There  ia  a  love  which,  born 

In  early  days,  lives  on  through  silent  years. 

FANNY  KEMBLE. 
»  _^S 

M.  LATROBE  secured  a  passage  for  John  March  as  far 
as  New  York  with  the  servants  of  the  fur  company, 
and  that  young  gentleman  was  soon  made  ready  to  start. 
His  wardrobe  was  small,  plain,  neat,  and  prepared  by 
my  mother  and  Maud.  The  latter  added  a  little  pin 
cushion  and  needle-book,  the  handicraft  of  her  own  fin 
gers,  and  the  admiration  of  all.  In  the  little  silk  bag 
attached,  John  found  a  world  of  buttons;  and  at  the 
bottom,  as  if  the  last  thing  to  be  used,  was  a  purse  con 
taining  his  pocket  money.  John  took  it  out  in  his 
chamber  before  Guilford  and  me,  and  there  was  little 
besides  the  curious  rare  pieces  of  coin  which  Maud  had 
a  fondness  for  gathering,  and  had  kept  for  years. 

"  What  would  you  do,  boys/'  said  John. 

"  Give  them  back,"  said  I. 

"  Keep  them,"  said  Guilford  ;  "  you  might  possibly 
need  them,  and  Maud  would  never  forgive  you  if  you 
did  not  take  them  with  you." 


THEMAGKOYS.  47 

John  determined  to  preserve  them  as  relics. 

"I  shall  need  no  pin-money,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh, 
thinking  of  his  mother  and  Maud. 

Professor  March  had  died.  His  death  was  announced 
to  my  father  by  Virginia,  his  eldest  daughter,  between 
whom  and  Mr.  March  a  warm  correspondence  had 
since  been  kept  up,  till  the  day  of  his  illness.  He  had 
often  visited  the  ladies  ;  for  on  going  to  iJTew  York  on 
yearly  business,  he  never  was  so  engrossed  as  to  lose 
sight  of  the  claims  of  friendship  and  kindred.  He 
always  returned  home  with  so  much  to  tell  us:  what 
great  men  he  had  seen — Lafayette,  or  the  eloquent 
Mr.  Clay,  whom  he  admired  to  the  skies.  In  fact,  he 
frequently  went  to  Washington  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
seeing  the  world,  which  he  thought  less  provincial  at  the 
political  capitol  than  at  the  greater  metropolis  of  com 
merce.  How  he,  a  business  man,  could  devote  so  much 
time  to  his  family,  to  his  friends,  and  to  the  improve 
ment  of  his  noble  nature,  I  cannot  understand,  since  the 
spirit  of  present  progress  has  seized  me. 

"  He  had  better  have  stuck  to  his  business,"  snarls 
out  Adolphus  Fitz-Mammon  of  Pearl  street. 

Perhaps  he  had. 

At  any  rate,  confess  we  must,  that  there  were  we,  his 
wedded  wife,  now  a  poor  widow,  and  his  lawful  chil 
dren,  now  penniless,  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  about  to 
start  away  on  the  ocean  of  life,  and  forced  from  the  start 
to  paddle  our  own  canoe. 

I  have  a  tender  regret,  0 !  gentlemanly  reader — not 


4:8  8HOEPAC     EECOLLECTIONS. 

for  our  family  pride,  but  for  thy  sake — that  the  back 
ward  state  of  those  times  would  not  furnish  Mrs.  March 
with  genteel  labor — embroidery,  wax-work,  writing  for 
newspapers  or  magazines,  lecturing  on  the  rights  of  the 
softer  sex,  God  bless  them.  Indeed  there  seemed  to 
have  been  no  machinery  set  in  motion,  by  upheavings 
of  the  social  world,  for  raising  the  wind  wherewithal  to 
bear  up  conscious  dignity,  suffering  under  a  cloud. 
These  days  of  such  blessed  short-cuts  to  fortune  and 
fame  are  paradisaical,  when  compared  with  those  long, 
old-fashioned,  rugged  roads  up  the  hill.  With  duo 
shamefacedness,  I  confess  that  Mrs.  March,  my  mother, 
and  the  widow  of  a  rather  distinguished  man,  took  in 
washing.  Though  she  rarely  bent  over  the  tub  herself, 
yet  many  a  night  have  I  laid  snug  under  her  ironing- 
table,  pretending  to  sleep,  so  that  she  might  feel  free  to 
sigh  aloud  in  the  midnight  hours,  as  she  wearily  and 
heavily  leant  on  the  smoothing-iron. 

It  was  six  months  after  the  great  catastrophe  before 
Mrs.  March  could,  earning  the  family  subsistence  the 
while,  do  anything  beyond  getting  John  to  Cambridge, 
with  the  fee  necessary  to  enter  the  preparatory  school. 
During  the  remainder  of  this  year,  sufficient  money 
must  be  scraped  together  for  the  first  payment  due  on 
the  cottage  which  was  once  our  own.  The  good  people 
of  the  town  called  it  Lilac  Cottage ;  it  stood  on  the  edge 
of  the  city,  at  the  extremity  of  a  little  green  lawn, 
shaded  on  the  two  sides  by  elms  and  locusts. 

Great  as  was  the  need  of  economy,  as  well  as  the 


THEMAGEOYS.  4U 

labor  of  each  tiny  hand,  yet  no  sooner  had  the  blue-bird 
began  to  pipe  for  spring  than  my  mother  said  we  must 
make  ready  for  school.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  the 
weather  settled  a  little,  and  the  damp  earth  began  to 
grow  dry,  we  started  on  a  bright,  breezy  Monday  morn 
ing  for  our  schools — Maud  one  way,  and  Guilford  and 
I  another.  The  lilac  bushes  nodded  us  a  morning  fare 
well  as  we  set  out. 

I  do  not  remember  that  the  boys,-  our  schoolfellows, 
treated  us  any  the  worse  after  our  misfortune.  Boys 
are  nobler  little  fellows  than  they  are  generally  written 
— noisy,  mischievous  rascals  as  they  are.  But  Maud, 
on  the  other  hand,  did  mention,  in  a  quiet,  uncomplaining 
way,  some  notable  instance  of  insolence  on  the  part  of 
her  school  companions. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  March  ; 
"  we  are  very  poor,  and  must  not  expect  to  escape  the 
load  of  obloquy  which  poverty  is  liable  to  carry.  Let 
your  manners  be  simple,  and  your  behavior  as  prudent 
as  I  hope  it  may  be  innocent,  and  you  will  soon  begin 
to  see  rise  up  around  you  a  respect  more  valuable  than 
that  paid  to  mere  wealth." 

We  all  looked  on  and  listened,  with  a  sort  of  growing 
solemnity,  till  my  mother  closed  this,  the  longest 
harangue  of  her  life. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  in  extenuation  of  the  con 
duct  of  the  young  girls,  whose  rudeness  had  wounded 
our  little  self-deprecating  bird,  they  were  daughters  of 
some  honest  people  who  fancied  my  mother  proud 

3 


50  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

because  she  persevered,  even  now  in  the  hour  of  her 
desolation,  the  even  tenor  of  her  laborious  days  and 
nights,  without  accepting  either  the  proffered  assistance 
of  the  good  and  great  around  her,  or  the  society  of  the 
vulgar,  who  were  as  far  beneath  her  as  ever. 

Our  fall  in  the  social  scale  was  not  very  far.  Such 
was  the  esteem  felt  for  the  character  of  Mrs.  March, 
likewise  for  the  memory  of  her  husband,  that  strange  as 
it  may  appear,  we  were  now  almost  as  respectable  as 
ever.  I  say  very  honestly  this  was  strange,  for  I  defy 
any  man  to  look  narrowly  into  his  own  heart  and  say, 
that  he  regards  the  person  of  his  fallen  brother,  with 
precisely  that  amount  of  respect  he  entertained  before 
his  fortunes  were  clouded. 

In  spite  of  your  honest  protestations,  the  difference  is 
just  equal  to  the  cash  lost. 

The  gap  may  be  filled  with  pity  or  interest,  or  even 
with  admiration,  but  it  is  quite  another  thing. 

It  may  be  a  nobler,  for  the  savor  of  Monsieur  Mam 
mon's  presence  is  gone. 

Yet  those  times  were  not  blessed,  as  these  are,  with  so 
many  charming  refinements,  and  necessary  extrava 
gances,  in  the  manner  of  living.  Between  the  citizens 
of  our  little  city  there  was  no  great  disparity  of  dress, 
nor  of  style  in  anything  outward. 

The  Governor's  household  often  rode  to  church  in  a 
French  cart,  all  sitting  on  the  clean  straw  laid  on  the  bot 
tom,  or  at  most  a  buffalo  robe.  Now,  had  they  ridden 
in  a  chariot,  wrho  so  unreasonable  as  demand  them  to 


THEMAGROTS.  51 

nod  their  heads  so  familiarly  as  they  did  to  John  Baptiste 
with  his  check-apron  family  driving  by,  jerking  the 
reins  of  that  wicked  little  trotter?  No,  my  simple,  yet 
honest  friend  ;  our  smiles  of  recognition  vary  with  the 
difference  of  altitude  between  our  relative  seats.  It 
should  be  that  such  divine  things  as  smiles  should  bless 
the  more,  the  further  they  descend  ;  but  alack  !  alas ! 

But  there  was  one  important  member  of  the  good  old 

society  that  did  not  think  it  worth  his  while  to  disguise 

the  difference  in  his  favor  towards  us :  no  less  a  worthy 

than  Mr.  Archibald  Magroy,  LL.D.     Mr.   Magroy  was 

a  rich  retired  fur-trader.     A  tall  figure,  a  heavy,  shaggy 

forehead,  a  lumbering  gait,  a  totally  disagreeable  man- 

ier  of  address,  so  pedantic,  withal,  that  you  must  fain 

idieve  the  whole  world  had  gone  mad,  and  he  had  lost 

ill  patience  with  it. 

In  the  early  days  of  his  career,  when  he  was  strug 
gling  to  obtain  what  the  world  owes  every  man,  how 
ever  contemptible  the  creditor — a  living — he  had  mar 
ried  a  thriving  Yankee  woman.  It  wras  the  common 
belief  that  Mrs.  Magroy  was  born  with  a  duster  in  her 
hand  and  a  turban  on  her  head.  She  certainly  was 
never  seen  without  them.  That  parlor  of  hers  was  irre 
proachable.  Once  on  each  day  she  opened  the  back 
door  of  the  same,  new  in,  flourished  her  duster,  basti 
nadoed  any  unlucky  little  spider  that  astonished  itself 
at  being  found  there,  scampered  off  the  flies,  and  herself 
flew  out  again — 'breathless.  But  she  breathed  more 
freely  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  dusted  all  over  the  house 


52 


SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS  . 


more  leisurely.  The  front  parlor-door  was  always  locked, 
the  curtains  always  precisely  fixed  for  company— that 
never  saw  them ;  the  blinds  down,  as  if  the  light  of 
Heaven  were  impure  in  her  sight.  In  truth,  no  human 
being,  except  the  neat  matron  Magroy,  knew  what 
treasures  of  immaculate  furniture  that  precious  parlor 
contained.  Her  visitors  were  always  shown  into  the 
dining-room  at  the  extremity  of  the  hall. 

Mr.  Magroy  delighted  in  the  glum  solitude  of  an 
office  in  the  wing.  Over  Mr.  Magroy 's  door  there 
figured  his  name  with  the  Archibald  of  his  fathers  pre 
fixed,  and  the  title  of  some  petty  office  he  held  under 
government  turned  up  at  the  end  of  it,  like  the  tail  of  a 
mastiff.  "  Old  Growl,"  as  the  boys  resentfully  nicknam 
ed  him,  kept  constant  watch  and  ward  in  this  kennel  of 
his,  ready  to  bark  at  mankind  as  a  whole  and  boyhood 
in  units.  For,  in  the  angle  between  the  wing  and  the 
main  body  of  the  building,  there  were  flourishing  a  few 
choice  fruit  trees,  some  of  whose  luxurious  branches  ex 
tended  over  the  fence,  and  therefore  in  pursuance  to  well 
known  boy-laws,  belonging  to  the  passers  by.  Against 
this  principle  Mr.  Magroy  protested,  and  the  contested 
point  rendered  him  a  miserable,  suspicious,  wrathful 
man  for  life,  according  to  the  boys.  For  the  fruit  was 
too  tempting  a  prize  for  juvenile  forbearance ;  it  hung 
over  the  road,  the  corner  was  but  a  rod  further  on,  and 
escape  always  easy.  Still  the  depredator,  though  then 
and  there  escaping,  was  not  beyond  the  reach  of  Archi 
bald  Magroy,  LL.D.  Woe  to  the  boy,  woe  to  his 


THEMAGROY8.  53 

school,  woe  to  his  teacher,  woe  to  the  very  parents 
whose  pride  was  bound  tip  in  him.  Old  Growl  was  a 
constant  school  visitor,  a  self  appointed  trustee  for  the 
education  of  the  poor  ignorant  world's  children.  Show 
me  a  Scot  that  hath  ever  taught  school,  and  I  will  show 
thee  a  pedagogue  egregious  and  eternal.  And  Mr. 
Magroy  was  a  Scot  and  had  taught  school.  With  his 
Greek  and  his  Latin,  his  latitudes  and  longitudes,  Old 
Growl  bestrode  the  world  of  classics  and  sciences,  as  he 
domineered  over  mankind's  children.  Who  that  went 
to  school  at  that  memorable  time,  but  remembers  the 
terrible  visitor  ?  And  who  that  ever  struck  a  plum  from 
the  bending  boughs  of  his  plum  trees,  that  doth  not 
repent  in  Greek  and  Latin  to  this  day  ? 

Mr.  Magroy  was  a  father. 

The  best  natured,  the  most  careless,  idle,  truant  blade 
of  a  boy  in  the  whole  city,  was  Allen  Magroy,  only 
child  of  Old  Growl.  Allen  had  been  the  devoted 
admirer  and  sworn  cavalier  of  our  Maud,  ever  since 
the  world  began.  Old  Growl,  before  the  death  of  Mr. 
March,  seemed  not  at  all  loth  to  see  this  intimacy.  lie 
even  smiled,  or  rather  chuckled  a  canine  approval — in 
his  way.  But  when  our  catastrophe  happened,  and  the 
poverty  in  which  we  were  left  became  known,  Mr. 
Magroy  turned  his  back  upon  poor  innocent  Maud. 
And  now,  instead  of  greeting  her  as  of  yore,  with  a  grim 
friendly  nod  and  a  handful  of  delicious  fruit,  whenever 
she  passed  that  way,  he  shut-to  the  gate,  and  strode  with 


54:  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

his  hands  behind  him  through  the  little  orchard  into  the 
kennel,  his  cane  tail-like  dragging  behind. 

Then  Allen  began  to  wear  a  long  face,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  looked  serious.  And  poor  Maud  began  to 
think  she  must  not  as  much  as  look  on  an  LL.B.'s  son, 
now  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  working  woman  ;  and 
so  treated  Allen  with  quite  chilling  reserve,  and  avoided 
him  on  all  possible  occasions.  Allen  would  throw  him 
self  in  her  path  between  home  and  school,  and  on  Sunday 
afternoons  as  she  came  back  from  church.  She  never 
so  much  as  referred  to  Mr.  Magroy,  but  she  protested 
against  Allen's  desperate  behavior.  In  fact  Maud  was 
a  great  deal  prouder  than  ever  she  knew  of. 

Allen  clung  to  her  with  Scotch  pertinacity.  He  was 
now  eighteen,  a  manly  looking  fellow  with  dark  hair 
and  mahogany  colored  eyes  ;  he  had  a  lithe  figure,  and 
there  was  that  grand  air  about  him  in  all  his  indolence, 
that  we  sometimes  see  with  so  much  pleasure  in  the 
strut  of  a  gallant  soldier,  as  if  he  knew  he  had  a  perfect 
right  to  it.  Yet  as  we  have  said,  Allen  was  a  careless, 
unstudious  fellow,  which  was  but  too  perceptible  in  the 
devil-may-care  manner  he  carried  about  with  him,  except 
when  in  the  presence  of  our  sweet  Maud,  lie  was 
bound  to  her  by  no  slender  tie,  viz.,  gratitude,  a  cable  on 
the  heart  of  a  boy,  though  soon  reduced  to  a  cobweb  in 
the  grown  up  man  of  the  world. 

A  few  years  earlier  than  the  date  of  our  story — I  was 
a  mere  child — we  were  all  playing  in  the  yard,  in  the 


THE     MAGBOY8.  55 

middle  of  which  stood  a  well  of  wonderful  depth.  We 
certainly  thought,  at  least  I  did,  that  it  extended  to  the 
centre  of  the  earth.  Maud  had  her  playthings  under 
an  elrn  near  by,  and  Allen  had  teased  her  all  day.  At 
length  for  the  boyish  fun  of  frightening  her,  he  climbed 
part-way  up  the  side  of  the  well-house.  Maud  grew 
frightened  in  a  moment. 

"Allen  !  Allen!  come  down,  do!" 

The  young  gentleman  was  delighted  too  much  with 
his  easy  success.  He  went  laughing  at  her  fears, 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  open  side,  and  was  walking  on 
the  edge  of  the  board,  keeping  his  balance,  however, 
with  much  effort. 

Maud  held  her  breath,  and  soon  became  so  pale  that 
Allen  fairly  shouted.  Suddenly  he  lost  his  balance, 
caught  at  the  chain  as  he  fell,  and  went  thumping  and 
tumbling  down  the  walls  of  the  well.  lie  succeeded  in 
catching  the  chain  before  he  had  fallen  many  feet,  and 
the  roller  began  to  revolve  furiously.  Guilford  and 
myself  were  paralyzed  by.  fright;  but  Maud  darted  to 
the  crank,  which,  too,  was  flying  around  at  a  speed  ter 
rible  to  behold.  She  caught  it  with  sufficient  force  to 
check  the  roller,  and  impede  the  descent  of  the  boy,  who 
was  now  clinging  to  the  bucket.  In  another  moment  she 
had  seized  the  crank  firmly.  Her  loud  screams  soon 
brought  a  troop  of  neighbors  to  the  rescue,  and  Allen 
was  drawn  out.  He  had  fallen  a  perilous  distance ;  but 
though  covered  with  bruises  from  head  to  foot,  not  a 
bone  was  broken.  The  heroine  of  the  catastrophe 


56  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

fainted  when  the  excitement  was  gone,  and  the  fear 
alone  was  left.  They  carried  Maud  into  the  house, 
without  her  knowing  whether  Allen  was  dead  or  alive. 
Her  wrist  was  dislocated. 

"What  of  that?"  said  she  afterwards;  "possibly 
Allen  might  have  been  killed." 

Her  courage  and  presence  of  mind  had  indeed 
saved  the  life  of  the  ever-grateful  boy — the  ever-after 
true  and  loving  Allen. 

When,  therefore,  his  father  commanded  him  to  break 
with  Maud,  the  reader  may  fancy  his  sorrow  and  dis 
comfiture. 

"That  good-for-nothing  little  March  girl!  the  little 
white-headed  limmer !  let  me  never  see  ye  with  her 
more,  do  you  'hear  that,  sir?''  quoth  Mr.  Magroy, 
drowning  the  cry  of  gratitude  and  honor  in  loud  words. 

Allen  was  shocked,  mortified,  indignant.  He  began 
to  reason ;  he  grew  casuistical.  The  path  of  disobe 
dience  began  to  show  itself,  winding  amid  his  perplex 
ities. 

Mrs.  March  rarely  bothered  that  little  busy  brain  of 
hers  on  matters  beyond  the  object  immediately  before 
her.  Yet  now,  no  sooner  did  she  hear  of  the  unbecom 
ing  behavior  of  her  neighbor,  and  see  in  the  face  of 
Maud  how  it  affected  her  daughter,  than,  with  a  touch 
of  motherly  compassion,  she  drew  the  child  to  her 
bosom,  and  encouraged  her  to  pour  forth  the  griefs  that 
oppressed  her.  Previously  Maud  had  kept  her  own 
counsel.  ]N~ow,  my  mother  and  Maud  became  friends 


THEMAGKOY8.  57 

and  allies — more  like  two  loving  sisters  than  parent  and 
child. 

Ah  !  sympathy  !  sympathy  !  enricher  of  poverty  ! 
balm  of  breaking  hearts  ! 

Draw  thy  child  closer  to  thee,  good  mother — closer 
though  she  sinneth.  The  more  need — 'the  more  need. 

Our  Maud  suddenly  seemed  to  unfold  into  a  young 
woman.  Hitherto  she  had  been  a  mere  child.  The 
bud  was  quickened,  and  even  in  a  night  bloomed  into  a 
hundred-leaved  rose. 

Her  pretensions  to  beauty  were  of  no  inferior  order. 
Fair  hair  clung  around  her  shoulders  in  wavy  ringlets, 
beautiful  to  behold.  Her  eyes  looked  out  as  blue 
doves  from  their  habitations — all  peace  and  love  within, 
all  gentleness  without.  She  had  not  yet  reached  the 
perfect  stature  of  a  woman,  yet  it  was  evident  she  never 
would  rise  beyond  the  medium  height. 

Little  lady  as  she  was,  she  carried  a  winning  spirit 
and  a  brave,  towards  all  beside  herself — a  subtle  mastery 
that  brought  Power  into  the  retiime  of  her  attendant 
charms.  Even  her  weakness,  self-distrust,  took  the  form 
of  Grace.  Poor  girl,  to  have  a  history !  Blessed  is 
the  woman  that  hath  none. 

Maud  went  meekly  on  her  way — school  and  house 
hold  cares  dividing  her  hours.  She  looked  an  angelic 
creature,  involved  in  a  cloud — an  illusion  which  those 
long,  shining,  blonde  ringlets,  fleecy  as  a  summer  cloud, 
and  the  color  of  her  eye,  changeable  as  the  colors  of  the 
cushat's  neck,  with  their  moistened  fringes,  did  not 
serve  to  dispel.  3* 


58  SHOEPAG     RECOLLECTIONS 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

SHOEPAC    AND    MOCCASIN. 

MY  father's  friend,  M.  Latrobe,  was  a  French  gentle 
man;  he  rejoiced  in  it.  He  was  born  in  Paris.  He 
remembered  Napoleon — had  seen  him,  spoken  with 
him.  Napoleon  was  his  idol,  of  all  hero  divinities  in 
clay.  Every  new  day  he  told  a  new  anecdote  concern 
ing  the  emperor. 

M.  Latrobe  was  not  tall — rather  short  and  roundish. 
His  years  numbered  fifty,  and  yet  spring  sat  upon  his 
face,  laughing  at  winter  on  his  head.  He  was  a  gentle 
man  of  the  old  school,  and  handed  you  his  snuff-box 
with  a  polished  air.  His  eyes  were  piercing  black;  his 
mouth,  a  sharp,  judicious  little  mouth,  yet  almost  girl- 
like  in  expression. 

M.  Latrobe  was  really  a  great  man  ;  and  such  a 
friend  ! 

The  first  yearly  payment  on  Lilac  Cottage  has  fallen 
due.  I  need  not  set  forth,  one  by  one,  the  trials  and 
tribulations  that  fell  to  our  family  lot  during  that  sad 
year.  Nor  need  I  dwell  upon  the  anguish  with  which 
now  my  mother  beheld  the  death's  head,  Despair,  at 
the  family  board.  I  prefer  without  delay  to  usher  in 


8HOEPAC     AND     MOCCASIN.  59 

M.  Latrobe  ;  lie  has  just  returned  from  a  long  tour  up  the 
Lakes  ;  he  had  visited  the  far  northern  stations  belong 
ing  to  the  company. 

My  mother  was  delighted  to  see  him  again ;  and 
there  they  sat  in  the  little  library,  so  often  the  scene  of 
pleasantries  between  him  and  my  father,  where  so  many 
adventures  in  boats,  on  snowshoes,  and  in  shoepacs,* 
had  been  told,  and  where  Napoleon  never  had  been  for 
gotten. 

"How  are  all  our  friends  at  Mackinac?"  asked  my 
mother. 

"Ah!  madam,"  he  replied  in  a  softer  tone,  "you 
will  pardon  my  friendship  in  expressing  myself  before 
you,  but  the  people  up  there  loved  your  husband,  my 
friend,  my  friend  ;  I  think  I  see  him  here  again." 

M.  Latrobe  raised  his  eyes  to  the  picture  of  my  father 
with  such  affection,  such  sadness,  depicted  on  his  coun 
tenance. 

"  I  am  ready  to  weep  for  you,  madam — and  for 
myself,  too,"  he  added,  handing  his  snuff-box  to  my 
mother,  with  a  tear  on  the  lid. 

The  drops  trickled  down  my  mother's  pale  face  in 
silence.  Hers  had  long  been  the  midnight  agony ;  but 
her  daily  effort  was  to  banish  the  past,  for  the  sake  of 
the  cares  of  the  present,  and  God  had  helped  her  on  to 
fortitude.  The  present  occasion  was  one  of  those  rare 

*  The  shoepac  was  a  covering  for  the  feet — half  shoe,  half  moccasin- 
worn  by  the  early  Frenph  on  the  frontier. 


60  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

instances  when  my  mother's  grief  broke  forth  from  her 
eyes. 

The  two  gentle  spirits,  knit  together  by  love  for  a 
common  object,  buried  their  faces  in  their  handker 
chiefs,  and  wept. 

M.  Latrobe  was  the  first  to  speak.  He  told  her  of 
the  interest  manifested  at  Mackinaw  in  the  fortunes  of 
my  mother,  and  of  their  grief  over  what  wras  felt  as  a 
loss  common  to  all.  He  spoke  of  a  trunk-full  of  pre 
sents  they  had  sent  her  and  Maud.  The  Indians  had  a 
superstitious  reverence  for  Maud,  on  account  of  her 
hair.  The  Dove  of  Pigeon-Hawk  was  invested  with 
unearthly  attributes,  and  strings  of  wampum  attested 
their  homage. 

But  M.  Latrobe  had  a  great  favor  to  ask. 

"  I  have  long  desired,  madam,  to  place  in  your  hands 
the  keeping  of  my  little  daughter,  Ma  Belle." 

Mrs.  March  looked  surprised. 

"  Do  not  refuse  me  at  once,  wife  of  my  old  friend,"  he 
said,  with  the  voice  of  one  who  most  required  sympathy, 
in  attempting  to  bestow  it.  "  Since  the  death  of  my 
excellent  wife,  I  take  little  satisfaction  at  home,  and  am 
absent  so  many  months  at  once,  I  fear  Ma  Belle  will 
grow  up  in  the  streets. 

"  My  dear  M.  Latrobe,"  said  my  mother,  "  is  there 
anything  I  may  do  for  your  child  ?" 

"  Ah !  yes,  madam,  I  desire  her  to  be  a  lady,  and 
that  she  must  become  by  no  more  than  living  in  the 
same  house  with  you." 


8HOEPAC     AND     MOCCASIN.  61 

M .  Latrobe  extended  his  snuff-box. 

"  I  fear  you  are  too  polite,"  replied  Mrs.  March  with 
a  smile,  declining  the  good  gentleman's  snuff. 

"  And  I  desire  her  to  be  educated,"  continued  he. 
"  Now,  madam,  if  you  would  only  take  her  en  famille^ 
and  send  her  to  school  under  the  kind  protection  of 
Miss  Maud,  you  would  become  my  benefactress  for  my 
life. 

Who  could  refuse  such  an  appeal  ? 

Then  the  good  man  became  gay,  talked  of  a  laugh 
able  upset  from  a  canoe  into  the  rapids  of  Sault  Ste. 
Marie,  and  spoke  of  a  queer,  whimsical  old  officer,  sta 
tioned  at  Mackinaw,  so  as  to  slily  draw  in  an  apropos 
allusion  or  two  to  Napoleon. 

I  am  not  sure  that  Father  Robert  would  have  enjoyed 
M.  Latrobe's  success  that  day — the  lively,  agreeable 
talker. 

As  he  rose  to  depart,  he  drew  from  his  breast  pocket 
a  package,  and  laid  it  on  the  desk. 

"  Compliment  is  compliment ;  business  is  business," 
said  M.  Latrobe,  laconically.  "  You  will  find  Ma 
Belle's  business  in  ze  paper,  Madam  March."  He  pro 
nounced  th  with  difficulty  under  certain  circumstances. 

Mrs.  March  was  not  quite  prepared  for  pecuniary 
considerations,  poor  as  she  was,  and  much  as  she  needed 
the  wherewithal ;  and  a  tear  of  gratitude  stood  in  her 
eye. 

"  I  thought,  monsieur,  your  daughter  was  to  come  en 
famille  f" 


62  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Oui,  oui,  en  famille,  en  famille,  zat  is  it ;  zat  will 
be  ze  happiness  of  Ma  Belle  and  myself." 

The  polite  gentleman  had  hastily  gathered  up  his  hat 
and  gloves,  and  was  bowing  himself  out,  when  my 
mother's  remark,  and  the  manner,  caused  M.  Latrobe 
to  stop.  He  returned  hastily  towards  my  mother,  and 
took  her  gently  by  the  hand. 

"  You  would  not  force  me  to  place  my  child  in  ze 
keeping  of  strangers  ?" 

"  No,  M.  Latrobe,  your  child  shall  be  my  child ;  I 
will  love  her  for  your  sake,  and,"  she  added,  in  a  stifled 
voice,  "for  the  sake  of  one  we  both  loved.1' 

M.  Latrobe  began  to  feel  for  his  snuff  box.  Suddenly 
he  raised  my  mother's  hand  to  his  lips,  and  in  another 
moment  was  gone. 

That  afternoon  the  first  payment  was  made  on  the 
cottage. 

Mabel  Latrobe ! 

Our  pet  Mabel,  how  shall  I  describe  her  ?  ~No  one 
can  imagine,  no  one  will  believe  how  she  looked  ;  no 
one  can  see.  her  as  we  saw  her.  A  little  thing,  with 
clear  amber  complexion — those  piercing  black  eyes  of 
her  father's,  with  a  shade  of  soft  Indian  melancholy — his 
child-like  lips,  only  what  was  purely  suggestive  in  the 
father  was  growing  here  in  the  fullness  of  nature.  Lithe 
and  soft-footed  as  a  mountain  kitten,  and  gentle  man 
nered  and  soft-hearted  as  a  shepherd's  lamb,  and  yet 
withal  as  wild  as  a  fawn,  when  she  first  came  to  us,  was 
Mabel  Latrobe. 


8HOEPAC     AND     MOCCASIN.  63 

Her  mother  was  a  beautiful  half-breed,  who  had  been 
finely  educated  at  Montreal,  where  M.  Latrobe  iftarried 
her.  The  half-breeds  were  not  a  long-lived  race,  and 
Madam  Latrobe  had  died  young,  leaving  her  husband 
this  their  only  child — born  late  in  their  connubial  hap 
piness. 

The  little  one  had  been  named  Mdbelle — my  beautiful 
— by  her  mother,  but  we  Anglicized  it  into  Mabel. 

She  seemed  very  glad  to  come  among  us,  for  her  life 
had  been  lonely  of  late.  Parting  from  her  French  nurse 
was  a  trial.  M.  Latrobe,  however,  insisted  so  strongly, 
out  of  regard  to  my  mother,  whose  family  was  already 
sufficiently  large,  that  Mabel  became  reconciled  to  it, 
and  in  order  that  the  attachment  should  be  completely 
sundered,  the  good  woman  was  permitted  to  return  to 
Montreal,  whence  she  had  come,  and  whither  her  sighs 
had  long  been  directed.  There  she  was  living  comfortably 
on  the  allowance  M.  Latrobe  settled  upon  her,  when  last 
I  saw  the  fat  old  dame,  and  doubtless  she  is  living  still 
— those  Canadian  people  live  green  for  ever. 

Mabel  became  as  one  of  the  family  in  a  very  few 
months.  She  was  but  eighteen  months  younger  than 
myself,  and  we  were  playmates  and  called  each  other 
brother  and  sister,  though  as  for  that  she  was  child  and 
sister  to  us  all.  Guilford  she  greatly  respected,  but  his 
deliberate  movements  accorded  not  as  well  with  her 
liveliness  as  my  own  character.  As  I  said,  we  were 
playmates.  I  was  her  champion,  the  father,  or  husband, 
or  brother,  or  even  son,  of  her  different  dolls  ;  whose 


64  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

several  cradles,  bedsteads,  kitchens,  carriages,  horses, 
umbrellas,  knives,  forks,  boats,  etc.,  it  was  my  good  for 
tune  to  be  able  to  construct.  Yet  sometimes  I  grew 
jealous  of  Guilford,  whom  I  thought  she  respected 
above  my  important  self — is  not  jealousy  an  instinct  ? 

Mabel  was  mostly  consigned  to  the  care  of  the  prudent 
Maud.  However,  it  was  sometimes  necessary  for  my 
mother  to  interfere,  very  much  as  great  nations  do  be 
tween  small,  in  order  to  preserve  the  general  peace  of 
society.  On  the  whole,  the  two  girls  did  very  well 
together,  and  Maud  certainly  discharged  the  sacred 
trust  entirely  to  the  satisfaction  of  M.  Latrobe.  The 
school  to  which  they  went  was  kept  by  a  Madam  Laon, 
near  the  Catholic  church.  Madam  Laon  was  assisted 
by  several  nuns,  who  taught  sweet  music  and  pretty 
embroidery,  and  were  very  nice  people — that  is,  for 
nuns  ;  for  I  have  so  deferential  a  regard  for  commonly 
received  notions,  that  I  suppose  I  must  qualify  my  words 
for  people's  sakes.  Indeed,  these  nuns,  and  their  mode 
of  life,  together,  were  so  very  fascinating,  that  the  girls 
had  not  studied  with  Madam  Laon  more  than  two  years 
before  Maud  gave  tokens  of  desire,  if  not  determina 
tion,  to  lead  a  cloistered  life.  As  soon  as  discovery  of 
this  was  made  to  my  mother  by  the  honest  Madam  Laon, 
the  former  took  the  children  from  the  school,  and  placed 
them  under  charge  of  a  New  England  lady,  Mrs.  Fan 
ner,  who  gave  great  satisfaction.  M.  Latrobe  never 
interfered  with  my  mother's  action  in  such  cases,  for  tho 
regulation  of  his  daughter's  education.  And  in  the  pro- 


SHOEPAC     AND     MOCCASIN.  65 

sent  instance  he  M*as  so  frightened  at  the  idea  his  darling 
might  catch  the  "  contamination,"  as  he  called  it,  that 
he  openly  requested  my  mother  to  bring  up  Mabel  in 
the  Protestant  religion.  I  fear  he  was  a  poor  sort  of 
religionist,  to  lose  sight  thus  of  his  daughter's  eternal 
interests  ;  but  he  had  a  strange  opinion  that  there  was  but 
one  God  and  one  Saviour  for  both  churches ;  a  belief  which 
all  sects  would  doubtless  unite  so  far  as  to  condemn. 

How  much  the  disappointment  and  sorrow  Maud  felt 
on  Allen's  account  may  have  tended  to  turn  her  thoughts 
towards  a  convent,  we  cannot  say.  She  persisted  con 
scientiously,  however,  in  no  intercourse  with  the  mourn 
ful  object  of  her  deepest  regard.  It  was  working  sadly 
on  the  boy's  appearance.  He  would  throw  himself 
occasionally  in  her  way,  and  entreat  her  in  such  sad, 
tender  terms  to  hear  him,  and  not  mind  his  lather,  whom 
he  tried  to  pretend  she  had  mistaken,  that  she  must 
needs  often  drop  her  veil  quickly  to  conceal  her  tears, 
and  hurry  on  incontinent  of  his  grief. 

The  poor  lad  was  losing  much  of  his  buoyancy,  though 
not  becoming  any  more  careful  than  ever  in  his  beha 
vior,  which  was  only  too  frank  and  devil-may-care. 

When  Mand  was  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  an 
incident  happened  which  occasioned  no  little  merriment 
in  the  family  ever  after,  though  the  girl  herself  never 
joined  in  it.  Among  the  Indian  friends  of  my  father 
was  a  fine  old  Potawatomie  chief — Italisse — who  always 
brought  his  family  to  our  house  at  the  times  of  the  an 
nual  Indian  payments.  Well,  it  seems  that  his  son  had 


&6  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

conceived  a  great  liking  for  Maud,  and  after  the  death 
of  my  father  began  to  manifest  his  passion.  No  one 
thought  anything  of  it,  however,  until  now.  He  came 
to  the  house  every  day  after  dinner,  and  after  school  in 
the  evening,  and  would  follow  Maud  around  like  any 
faithful  spaniel ;  but  he  had  not  the  courage  to  say  a 
word. 

One  day  the  taciturn  young  lover  brought  his  mistress 
a  string  of  wampum,  which  she  accepted  innocently 
enough.  This  seemed  to  afford  him  peculiar  satisfaction. 

On  the  next  day  he  gave  her  a  little  box  of  Indian  paints, 
and  on  her  accepting  it,  manifested  the  same  significant 
joy.  On  the  third  day,  he  produced  a  pair  of  scarlet 
leggings,  beautifully  wrought.  Maud  hesitated,  and 
consulted  Mrs.  March  on  the  point  of  taking  these,  but 
the  latter  only  smiled  at  the  grave  Italisse's  earnest  de 
meanor,  and  told  her  not  to  give  him  offence  ;  so  Maud 
accepted  the  leggings.  No  sooner  had  she  expressed 
her  thanks,  which  she  did  in  the  Indian  tongue,  and  as 
it  happened  witli  unusual  warmth,  by  way  of  atonement 
for  her  previous  hesitation,  than  the  young  chief  leaped 
into  the  air  with  joy,  bounded  away  out  of  the  garden, 
and  down  the  avenue,  striking  his  hand  on  his  mouth 
and  yelling  as  he  went,  in  the  peculiar  manner  of  his 
tribe. 

On  the  following  morning,  who  should  appear  but  the 
old  chief  and  his  squaw,  in  company  with  the  young 
lover,  now  radiant  with  joy  and  certainty.  The  chief 
followed  my  mother  into  the  library,  and  seated  himself, 


SHOEPAC     AND     MOCCASIN.  67 

as  in  grand  pow-wow.  His  wife  with  becoming  modesty 
of  demeanor  dropt  on  a  chair  near  the  door,  and  the  son, 
still  more  respectfully,  stood  entirely  outside  the  room 
in  the  hall.  Old  Italisse  was  allowed  to  light  his  pipe — 
a  primitive  tomahawk  pipe.  lie  took  an  initiatory  puff 
or  two,  and  then  handed  it  to  my  mother,  who  gravely 
applied  it  to  her  mouth  a  moment,  and  passed  it  with 
becoming  gravity  and  ceremonious  inaction  to  the 
squaw,  who  was  fully  equal  to  the  emergency. 

The  council  was  thus  fully  inaugurated. 

The  chief  opened  the  confab,  standing  not  ungracefully 
opposite  my  mother,  and  facing  both  her  and  the  rest  of 
his  auditory.  He  said : 

"  He  had  known  Pigeon  Hawk  many  moons.  The 
leaves  had  fallen  on  his  grave  three  times,  yet  he  remem 
bered  him  as  well  as  if  the  picture  he  saw  on  the  wall 
were  painted  on  his  heart.  The  Dove  of  the  Pigeon 
Hawk  was  dear  for  her  father's  sake.  He  would  give 
her,  and  the  children  she  might  have  by  his  son,  all  his 
land,  his  boats,  his  blankets,  his  mococks,  spears,  and 
tomahawks." 

My  mother  now  began  to  grow  alarmed,  she  saw  the 
whole  thing  in  its  most  serious  and  embarrassing  aspect. 
It  seems  that  the  three  presents  had  been  respectively  a 
declaration  of  love,  a  request  for  love  in  return,  and 
finally  an  offer  of  marriage,  and  all  having  been  accep 
ted,  especially  the  last,  under  due  consultation,  Italisse 
imagined  his  fate  decided  and  his  happiness  begun.  It 
was  with  difficulty  that  Mrs.  March  could  make  the  old 


68  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

chieftain  comprehend  the  mistake.  White  Pigeon  he 
knew  to  have  been  versed  in  all  the  customs  of  his  tribe  ; 
Maud  and  my  mother  both  talked  Potawatomie,  and 
blind  to  the  light  of  all  elucidation,  he  grunted  "  ugh  ! 
ugh !"  and  finally  stalked  off  with  his  family,  in  high 
dudgeon.  He  never  visited  our  house  again. 

My  grieved  and  half  terrified  mother  sent  the  presents 
to  M.  Latrobe,  who  returned  them  to  young  Italisse, 
and  endeavored  to  soothe  the  disappointed  lover  and 
mollify  the  old  chieftain,  with  what  success  I  am  unable 
to  say.  The  circumstance  occurred  so  long  ago  that  no 
one  in  the  family  remembers  more  than  I  have  narrated, 
and  possibly  it  may  be  that  the  three  presents  were  not 
all  precisely  what  I  have  represented,  yet  the  substance 
and  manner  of  the  courtship  are  true,  "  as  set  forth  in 
the  brief." 


JOHN      MARCH     WHITES      HOME.  69 


CHAPTER  IX. 

JOHN   MARCH    WRITES   HOME. 

Read  over  this  ; 

And  after,  this,  and  then  to  breakfast,  with 
What  appetite  you  have. 

H8NRY   VIII. 

BY  the  magical  influence  of  an  author's  wand,  we 
must  turn  the  reader  back  again  in  this  history,  to  about 
two  months  after  the  departure  of  John  March  for 
Cambridge. 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  30th,  182- - 

"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"  I  arrived  here  this  morning,  and  have  retired  early  to  the  room 
Aunt  Virginia  has  kindly  fitted  up  for  me,  to  write  to  you.  Dear  mother, 
it  was  too  bad  to  leave  you  all ;  I  might  have  been  of  considerable  use 
to  you,  had  you  let  me  remain,  but  here  am  I  now  playing  gentleman 
while  you  are  working  with  your  hands.  I  hope  the  time  may  come 
when  I  can  requite  it  all  by  other  means  than  mere  words. 

"  We  were  three  weeks  reaching  New  York.  The  roads  are  bad 
between  Buffalo  and  Albany,  and  the  stage  travelled  slowly.  The  Far 
Company  gentlemen  were  very  kind  all  the  way.  *  At  Albany  we  took 
one  of  the  new  fashioned  boats  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much  at 
Detroit,  called  steamboats.  They  are  very  swift,  making  six  miles  an 
hour  against  the  wind.  Whether  they  will  ever  dare  to  try  them  on  the 
lakes  I  don't  know,  but  they  begin  to  talk  of  it.  Think  of  that !  But  I 
•would  not  like  to  cross  Lake  Erie  in  one  of  them,  for  fear  of  a  storm. 

*  A  slight  anachronism. 


70  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"When  I  got  to  New  York  all  I  could  do  was  to  exclaim  New  York ! 
New  York !  such  great,  three  story  buildings,  such  a  great  post-office,  such 
banks,  and  so  many  people  hurrying  along.  The  shipping  reminds  me  of 
a  forest  of  pine  trees ;  yes,  a  perfect  forest  of  them. 

"  Aunt  Virginia  was  very  glad  to  see  me,  I  think.  I  am  glad  you  have 
sent  her  money  enough  for  my  board,  schooling  and  everything  for  the 
year,  as  she  is  very  poor.  As  you  have  not  heard  anything  about  her 
except  what  she  used  to  write  herself,  I  will  tell  you  what  Aunt  Carrie 
says.  She  says  '  That  V —  was  a  great  belle,  and  was  quite  celebrated  at 
Washington,  Philadelphia,  New  York,  even  way  down  to  New  Orleans,  and 
that  she  had  many  offers ' — which  I  can  readily  believe,  as  she  is  so  good 
and  lady-like  in  her  manners,  and  so  beautiful,  too,  even  now  in  her  40th 
year.  I  will  tell  you  and  Maud  just  how  she  looks.  Tall  and  straight, 
fine  neck,  and  person,  large  black  eyes,  slightly  aquiline  nose,  black  ring 
lets,  and  such  a  musical  ringing  voice  I  never  heard.  But  she  would 
accept  nobody,  rich  men,  learned  professors,  statesmen,  nobody,  so 
Aunt  C.  says.  And  what  do  you  think  is  the  reason  ?  Why,  Aunt  Carrie 
is  blind,  and  has  three  little  fatherless  children,  and  Aunt  V.  has  devoted 
herself  to  them  all  for  life.  Don't  that  sound  like  a  romance  ?  It's  almost 
like  you,  mother.  Well,  Aunt  C's.  husband  left  little  or  nothing,  so  Aunt  V. 
who  was  unmarried  when  her  father  died,  and  left  her  every  thing,  turned 
it  all  into  enough  money  to  purchase  this  little  place  of  a  house  and  six 
acres  only,  and  here  they  live  by  raising  vegetables  which  they  send  to 
Boston  market  to  sell.  Aunt  V.  did  not  know  any  thing  about  it,  but  she 
got  books,  and  read  everything  on  such  subjects,  and  now  does  very  well 
indeed. 

"She  teaches  two  of  the  children,  the  little  girls,  herself,  and  sends  the 
boy  to  school.  She  says  I  must  commence  right  off  to  go  to  school  and 
prepare  for  college  by  next  year.  My  candle  is  most  burnt  down,  so 
good  night — love  to  Gilly  and  Walter — kiss  Maud. 

"  Thine, 

"JOHN  MARCH." 

This  letter  was  "brought  by  the  postman,  who  is  a  little 
Frenchman,  mounted  on  a  strong  but  rough  Canadian 


JOHN      M  A  K  C  H      WRITES     HOME.  71 

pony,  with  burs  in  his  mane,  tail,  and  all  over.  lie 
goes  round  with  a  long  tin  horn,  which  he  blows  in  front 
of  every  house  where  there  is  a  letter  to  be  delivered, 
till  they  come  out.  Then  he  takes  his  letter  out  of  his 
saddle-bag  and  gets  twenty -five  cents,  or  more,  if  it  be  a 
double  letter. 

It  was  a  great  shame  when  the  town  got  so  great  as  to 
abolish  good  Ant.oine,  and  establish  a  post-office.  In  the 
first  place  he  wras  thrown  out  of  employment,  as  well  as  his 
horse.  In  the  next  place,  instead  of  having  your  letters 
— as  the  newspapers  are  now-a-days — brought  to  your 
door,  you  must  go  after  them.  And  in  the  last  place, 
and  worst  of  all,  if  you  are  a  poor  old  man,  or  any 
kind  of  a  poor  man,  or  poor  woman,  or  servant — which 
you  cannot  help  and  which  God  made  you — the  upstart 
clerks  are  sure  to  insult  you.  And  ten  to  one  they  don't 
turn  you  off  without  looking  over  the  bundle  of  letters 
to  see  if  you  have  got  one.  The  first  time  I  arrived  at 
Washington,  I  found  a  letter  after  a  week's  daily  inquir 
ing,  which  must  have  arrived  the  day  after  I  did.  I 
remember  it  because  it  was  from  Mabel  herself.  Now 
little  Antoine  knew  you  had  a  letter  before  you  knew 
it  yourself,  and  great  was  his  hilarity  on  giving  it  to 
you. 

"  He !  my  friend !"  he  would  call  out,  "  what  you 
will  give  for  one  lettar,  one  fine  fat  lettar?  from 
Philadelphia.  Ah !  you  no  care  eh !  By  gar  I  will 
keep  him  myself,"  and  he  would  pretend  to  rein  off  his 
steed.  Then  he  would  turn  back  and  say  sharply, 


72  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Quick !  non,  allons  !     I  have  not  time  for  de  trifle,"  and 
you  would  pay  the  postage  and  read  your  letter. 

I  am  such  a  stickler  for  primitive  times,  that,  though  I 
may  be  mistaken,  I  think  the  letters  of  those  days  were 
worth  the  postage  you  paid.  The  topics  of  a  letter  were 
infinitely  various,  from  the  last  murder  to  the  last  mar 
riage,  and  there  was  nothing  mercena^  about  it. 
Theology,  politics,  and  all  the  interesting  affairs  of  the 
world,  were  touched  upon  at  greater  length.  Now,  the 
newspapers  pretend  to  do  all  that,  but  not  half  so  well. 
You  never  see  a  letter  now-a-days  but  you  fear  to  open 
it,  lest  it  should  turn  out  a  notice  of  assessment  due  on 
paltry  stock,  or  a  protest,  or  note  due,  or  pew  tax. 
There  was  little  of  that  sort  of  thing  then. 


SECOND   LETTEK. 

"  July  1st  (2  years  later). 
"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER, 

"  I  have  received  your  affectionate  epistle  with  great  satisfaction.  It 
rejoices  my  nerves — the  illiterate  would  say  heart — to  hear  you  are  all 
well.  It  would  be  quite  to  my  taste  to  extend  to  Miss  Mabel  Latrobe  an 
elder  brother's  greeting.  Please  convey  the  message  to  her,  with  a 
labial  accompaniment  from  me. 

"  That  vulgar  affair  of  Johnson's  was  execrably  shocking.  To  think 
of  his  suing  you  at  law !  Would  that  I  had  my  ten  digits  in  his  hair  and 

eyes.     Of  course  Judge  McD decided  in  your  favor,  and  no  wonder 

the  people  carried  Guilford  home  on  their  shoulders  when  the  decision 
was  announced.  I  submitted  the  case  to  our  law  lecturer,  and  knew 
how  the  case  would  terminate  long  beforehand  ;  only  I  was  afraid  it 
might  not,  or  that  you  might  consider  me  vain  and  presumptuous.  But 
the  more  I  learn,  the  less  I  think  I  know :  like  Newton,  I  only  seem  to 
myself  to  be  on  the  shore  of  the  great  Ocean  of  Knowledge. 


JOHN      MARCH      WRITES     HOME.  73 

"Think  of  Aunt  V taking  up  German;  yet  she  actually  has — 

partly  for  the  pleasure  of  reading  Goethe,  and  partly  in  order  to  teach 
the  children.  As  for  me,  I  doiv  t  think  much  of  modern  languages  ;  givo 
me  the  language  of  immortal  Homer,  or  that  of  the  Bard  of  Mantua — 
which  I  hope  to  know  something  of  next  year. 

"  I  have  passed  a  good  examination — 25th  in  my  class.  Hurrah !  one 
year  of  college  through  with.  How  the  boys  will  stare  at  me  when  I  go 
home  in  three  years  from  now  with  my  diploma.  I  will  shake  it  in  the 
face  of  old  Magroy  himself;  the  old  dog!  does  he  frighten  all  the  little 
cowardly  boys  yet !  I  wish  I  could  get  hold  of  him.  And  don't  he 
speak  to  Maud  yet  ?  Who  is  he,  to  put  on  such  airs  ?  the  old  Scotch 
herdsman !  I  talf  believe  his  father  tends  his  flocks  now  on  the  Gram 
pian  hills.  I  hope  you  will  send  me  all  the  money  you  can.  I  am  run 
ning  in  debt  here  and  in  Boston.  With  much  love  to  all  the  children,  F 

remain, 

"  Thine, 

"JOHN  MARCH." 

My  mother  read  this  letter  aloud  with  a  troubled 
visage.  The  tone  of  it  was  ill  suited  to  our  circum 
stances,  to  John's  prospects  in  life,  to  good  taste,  to  good 
manners,  or  to  Christian  charity.  The  pedantry,  my 
mother  told  me  afterwards,  she  could  overlook.  All 
college  youths,  she  said,  seemed  to  regard  the  world 
outside  their  narrow  circle  as  woefully  ignorant.  But 
the  evidence  it  afforded  of  an  uncurbed  spirit,  little  in 
keeping  with  his  early  religious  feelings,  and  expensive 
habits,  as  little  in  keeping  with  his  means,  made  a 
deeply  unfavorable  impression  on  her.  She  said  nothing, 
however,  but  laid  down  the  letter,  and  silently  went 
about  her  household  duties.  Guilford  took  it  up,  and 
mounting  a  chair,  read  the  letter  aloud  in  an  affected 
high  tone. 

4 


74  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Children!"  said  he,  coming  to  the  end  ;  "  who  does 
he  call  children,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Don't  Guilford,"  said  Maud,  in  evident  pain,  for 
John  was  very  dear  to  her,  as  well  as  Allen's  great 
friend. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  said  Guilford,  unusually  excited. 
"John  is  a  fool." 

"  A  fool,"  repeated  Maud  in  astonishment.  "  Why, 
Gilly,  don't  you  remember  what  the  Bible  says,  '  He 

that  calleth  his  brother  a  fool ' besides,  John  hasn't 

said  anything  against  us." 

"  But  it's  the  way  he  writes,"  said  Guilford,  recover 
ing  himself.  "  lie  talks  as  though  we  were  all  heathens, 
and  he  the  King  of  the  Tongo  Islands,  at  least.  He  for 
gets  that  here  we  are  all  working  for  him  to  be  there — 
mother  almost  killing  herself,  and  everybody  so  kind  to 
her,  and  to  all  of  us." 

"  "Well,  well !  Gilly,"  said  Maud,  soothingly,  "  per 
haps  he'll  come  home  and  give  you  your  turn  next." 

"  I  won't  take  it,"  said  the  boy,  stepping  down  from 
the  chair. 

"  It  is  not  his  fault,"  continued  Maud  gently.  "  You 
know  father  wished  it." 

"Yes,"  murmured  Guilford,  "I  know  that — I  forgot 
that ;  but  he  mustn't,  no,  he  must  not,  write  so.  I'll  tell 
him  myself;"  so  saying,  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  and  went  into  the  yard  to  see  what  might 
require  his  attention  in  that  quarter. 


GHOSTSTOHIES.  75 


CHAPTEE    X. 

GHOST    STOKIES. 

But  soft !  behold  !  lo,  where  it  comes  again  ! 
I'll  cross  it,  though  it  blast  me. — Stay,  illusion  ! 

HAMLET. 

GUILFOKD  MAKCH  and  his  brother  Walter,  were  as 
man  and  boy  the  first  few  years  of  their  half-orphanage. 
The  distinguished  young  head  of  the  family  was  skillful 
and  strong  in  hewing  wood  and  drawing  water,  while 
the  young  male  branch  trudged  along  in  the  subordi 
nate  sphere  of  chore-doer  general — in  a  light  way. 

And  it  is  high  time  the  dainty  reader  should  know 
that  the  mother  of  the  two  young  gentlemen  changed 
her  occupation  on  coming  into  the  second  year  of 
widowhood,  and  for  a  while  we  may  now  contemplate 
her  in  the  employ  of  sundry  tailors  and  shoemakers. 
For  the  former  she  stitched  on  shirts,  underclothing  and 
pantaloons ;  and  for  the  latter  she  bound  shoes — herself 
employing,  to  aid  in  these  useful  purposes,  a  small  num 
ber  of  respectable  young  females,  of  whose  history  we 
knew  nothing,  beyond  their  fingers'  ends. 

Not  the  least  dignified  among  the  small  pursuits  of 
Walter  March,  was  to  fetch  and  carry  bundles  to  and 


V6  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

from  the  shops  of  the  above-mentioned  tailors  and  shoe 
makers  ;  and  as  seamstresses  and  shoe-binders  never 
since  the  world  began  were  known  to  finish  their  work 
before  night,  it  fell  out  that  my  journey  ings  to  the  shops 
of  our  patrons  commonly  took  place  at  night. 

Now,  by  chance,  there  was  on  the  street  along  which 
I  travelled,  a  vacant  house — a  dreary,  clapboard-rat 
tling,  shutter-flapping,  haunted  house,  which  nightly 
gave  forth  sounds,  not  unmusical,  but  unearthly.  Oppo 
site  the  corner  of  this  building  there  stood  a  white  post, 
marking  a  boundary  of  the  lots,  and  rejoicing  near  the 
top  in  the  two  letters,  O.  Q.,  the  initials  of  the  owner 
of  the  property.  It  is  needless  to  hint  to  the  imagina 
tive  reader,  that  those  black  letters  shone  forth  from  the 
white  post  like  two  spectral  eyes — dim,  hollow,  far. 

The  supernatural  sounds  issuing  from  the  haunted 
house,  together  with  the  appearance  of  the  white  figure 
— demon-eyed — sometimes,  in  fact  frequently,  con 
strained  Walter  March  to  quicken  his  footsteps  as  he 
approached  the  fearful  neighborhood,  or  to  take  the 
middle  or  opposite  side  of  the  street — -to  whistle  with 
apparent  unconcern — to  start  with  affright  at  the  least 
unusual  object,  man  or  beast,  suddenly  coming  in  sight, 
and  in  short,  to  clear  the  infernal  region  at  a  goodly 
run. 

It  is  equally  needless  to  go  into  less  important  parti 
culars,  such  as  the  tenor  of  Walter  March's  dreams — 
the  nightmares  that  were  bestrode  by  a  familiar  post- 
goblin,  whose  ears  were  posts,  whose  legs  and  tail  were 


GHOSTSTORIE8.  77 

posts,  whose  head  was  full  of  O's  and  Q's,  whose  snort 
was  like  the  earthquake  of  falling  houses  ;  of  a  vampire 
that  sucked  the  dream-blood  of  Walter  March,  planted 
in  the  victim's  breast,  like  a  post  driven  through  him, 
and  holding  on  to  that  young  gentleman's  eye-brows 
by  his  vampiue  eyes,  O.  Q.  Further  particulars  were 
superfluous. 

For  many  and  many  a  month  AY  alter  March  was  an 
unhappy  little  haunted  lad,  ridiculed  by  the  head  of  the 
family,  and  laughed  at  by  everybody.  The  serving- 
woman,  Bowes,  was  the  only  friend  who  condoled  with 
me  in  my  misfortunes,  the  only  person  who  had  faith 
in  the  delusion — in  short,  the  only  being  who  believed 
in  ghosts.  On  one  or  two  occasions  the  good  soul 
accompanied  me  through  the  dismal  region,  and  helped 
the  matter  no  little  by  scampering  off  at  the  first  sound. 
My  manly  brother,  Master  Guilford,  condescended  so 
far  to  notice  my  fears  as  to  propose  a  visit  to  the 
haunted  quarter  by  day,  and  a  thorough  exploration  of 
the  premises.  "We  accordingly  climbed  in  at  a  window, 
and  perambulated  over  the  rooms,  and  spied  into  the 
closets  and  corners,  from  base  to  garret  of  the  mansion, 
without  finding  any  satisfactory  clue  to  the  mystery,  or 
key  to  the  supernatural  music.  I  began  to  believe 
myself  the  victim  of  mere  groundless  fear,  when,  as  we 
were  about  departing — Guilford  had  already  descended 
to  the  ground  from  the  window — a  sweet,  unearthly, 
moaning  sound  echoed  through  the  deserted  apartments, 


78  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  lent  wings  to  the  speed  with  which  I  bounded  on 
after  my  brother. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  astonished  at  th< 
sudden  quickness  of  my  movements. 

"  Did  you  not  hear  it?"  I  asked,  breathlessly. 

"Hear  what?" 

"  That  noise !  those  sounds !  that  piteous  complaint 
in  music !" 

"  My  dear  brother,  I  fear  you  are  losing  your  senses  ; 
you.  will  soon  be  demented.  I  will  go  up  again  and 
listen,  just  to  convince  you." 

He  climbed  to  the  window,  and  sat  on  the  sill,  listen 
ing  attentively.  Of  course  he  heard  nothing,  or,  at 
least  nothing  unusual,  and  soon  jumped  down  again. 
He  walked  away  from  the  place  in  silence ;  but  there 
was  an  expression,  half-sneering  and  half-pitying,  on  his 
countenance,  which  cut  me  to  the  quick. 

I  now  vowed  to  myself  that  I  would  solve  the  diffi 
culty  in  the  most  direct  manner.  I  would  go  to  the 
spot  by  night,  alone,  for  nobody  should  laugh  at  me 
more.  How  whist  was  I  all  that  day !  how  preoccupied 
with  anticipated  conflicts  with  goblins,  witches,  dwarfs, 
dragons — what  not ! 

At  the  accustomed  hour  of  my  errands  to  the  shop  at 
night,  a  little  before  nine,  I  proceeded  resolutely  to  the 
enchanted  ground.  I  saw  the  white  post. 

'"Tis  nothing  but  a  white  post,"  I  said  to  myself, 
cheerily. 


GHOSTSTOKIE8.  79 

I  saw  the  two  eyes. 

"  They  are  nothing  but  two  letters,  O.  Q.,"  and  I  said 
O.  Q.  aloud  ;  I  even  heard  an  echo  O.  Q. ! 

"  That's  but  an  echo,"  said  I,  falteringly. 

I  had  gained  nearly  the  front  of  the  house.  The 
wind  came  and  shook  the  building  with  a  noise  that 
before  would  hare  frightened  me. 

"  Ha,  ha !"  I  laughed,  "  that's  nothing  but  the  wind !" 

The  next  moment  I  heard  another  sort  of  sound — the 
noise  of  a  chain !  I  paused — listened  eagerly,  distrust 
fully,  unbelievingly. 

There !  I  hear  it  again.  Yes,  it  is  distinct,  the 
clank !  clank  !  clank !  of  a  chain.  My  teeth  began  to 
chatter — my  knees  to  tremble.  I  was  not  prepared  for 
this.  My  legs  refused  to  do  their  office.  The  noise 
ceased,  but  I  turned  away  with  a  faint,  sickening  sensa 
tion,  with  difficulty  reached  home,  and  tottered  up  to 
bed. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Walter  ?"  was  asked  seve 
ral  times  next  day,  both  at  home  and  at  school.  I  was 
pale  and  dumb.  My  mother  managed  to  draw  out  my 
secret.  She  was  indignant  at  Bowes  for  encouraging 
ghost-notions  in  me,  and  took  Guilford  to  task  for  his 
ridicule  and  want  of  sympathy. 

Blessed  mother ! 

I  had  more  faith  in  her  than  in  Bowes  and  all  the 
world,  upper  and  lower,  put  together. 

"  My  son,"  said  she,  "  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
ghosts." 


80  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

I  was  foolish  enough  to  believe  her.  What  would 
the  spirit-rappers  say  to  that  ?  Bowes !  Bowes !  time 
has  proved  you  right,  and  my  matter-of-fact  mother 
wrong.  How  glad  Bowes  must  be  to  have  her  ghost- 
stories  confirmed — lit  up  with  science  and  philosophy  ! 
proved  mathematically  !  judicially  !  politically  !  by 
scholars,  judges,  statesmen ! 

I  now  resolved  to  encounter  the  monster,  since  there 
was  no  monster,  or  if  one,  as  my  mother  said  with  one 
of  her  humorous  smiles,  "  he  must  be  fettered,  and  can 
do  you  no  harm."  The  night  was  cloudy  moonlight — 
"Such  as  spectres  love,"  whispered  Fear;  "So  much 
the  better,"  whispered  Courage. 

The  white  post  appeared  and  disappeared  almost 
momentarily.  I  canre  to  within  a  rood  and  listened : 
no  sound  whatever.  I  moved  forward  a  step  or  two, 
and  heard  the  dismal  clank.  My  heart  began  at  once 
to  throb.  The  moon,  too,  conspired  against  me.  She 
flared  out  of  a  cloud  with  sudden  brilliancy,  and  in  her 
light  the  post  gleamed  whitely,  and  the  two  eyes — 
impossible  to  mistake  two  eyes — glared  upon  me.  I 
remembered,  though  indistinctly,  my  mother's  words. 
'No  ghosts,  no  ghosts,  I  whispered  to  myself.  But  as  I 
advanced,  the  chain  was  again  heard,  with  a  quick, 
loud  rattle,  over  the  boards  which  composed  the  side 
walk,  and  the  post  became  converted  into  a  skeleton 
figure,  which  appeared  to  retreat  before  me  with  a  grin 
of  vast  satisfaction  at  the  sport  this  adventure  seemed 
to  afford  him,  but  terrible  to  behold  on  my  part.  My 


GHOST     STORIES.  81 

courage  sank  ;  my  knees  felt  as  if  doubling  beneath  the 
weight  they  bore ;  my  teeth — I  would  not  let  them 
chatter,  but  with  a  last  desperate  flash  cf  resolution,  I 
leaped  forward  to  grapple  with  the  enemy. 

"It  is,  it  must  be,  a  chimera!"  I  cried,  with  tears  in 
my  eyes. 

Reader,  the  moral  courage  inspired  by  the  last  spark 
of  faith,  is  often  the  fire  of  the  Body  Guard — that  which 
decides  the  battle  and  gains  the  victory. 

The  insignificance  of  the  cause  of  my  alarm,  com 
pared  with  the  magnitude  of  the  alarm  itself,  may  excite 
a  smile. 

My  hobgoblin  turned  out  to  be  a  setter  dog  belonging 
in  the  neighborhood.  Insecurely  fastened,  he  had 
escaped,  dragging  his  chain  along  with  him.  The 
haunted  dwelling  was  one  of  his  places  of  resort ;  for 
persecuted  dogs,  in  common  with  lonely  lovers,  ever 
seem  to  seek  solitary  places,  where  they  may  pour  out 
their  complaints  to  the  moon ;  besides,  dog-rendezvous 
are  notoriously  ghost-haunted.  My  terror  had  trans 
figured  innocent  Tray  into  a  manacled  skeleton. 

That  was  the  occasion,  sir,  on  which  I  won  my  spurs. 
I  became  Mabel's  true  Knight  of  Romance,  and  my 
courage  was  respected  alike  by  Guilford  and  Bowes, 
and  by  all  the  Shoepacs  and  Arabs  of  the  city. 

Yet  I  stood  in  awe  of  Stebbins.  Stebbins  kept  a 
shop — a  merchant  tailor's  shop.  It  was  to  return  bun 
dles  to  Stebbins  that  I  was  forced  to  pass  by  the  haunted 
house.  I  entertained  great  fear,  or  at  least  extraordi- 

4* 


82  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

nary  respect  for  Mr.  Stebbins,  perhaps  more  than  for 
Mr.  Magroy,  with  better  liking.  He  patronized  my 
mother;  and  all  my  mother's  patrons  were  angels,  or 
saints,  or  good  genii  with  golden  wands.  Stebbins  paid 
promptly ;  but  I  stood  in  great  awe  of  him,  because  he 
insisted,  with  the  grandeur  becoming  a  patron,  that  the 
"  work  "  should  be  promptly  done  ;  and  oh  !  how  sharply 
he  did  inspect  the  aforesaid  "  work."  I  remember  how 
I  trembled,  and  how  relieved  I  felt  afterwards,  as  I 
shrank  out  of  his  presence,  gained  the  open  street,  and 
capered  along  homewards. 

Stebbins  was  a  tyrant,  but  he  didn't  mean  to  be. 
His  position  as  patron  of  poor  women,  frightened  girls, 
and  trembling  boys,  made  him  a  tyrant  in  spite  of  him 
self.  His  frown  was  awful.  Why  need  good  men,  who 
give  poor  people  work  to  do,  frown  ?  God  loveth  a 
cheerful  giver  of  work  to  the  poor. 

Stebbins,  then,  was  a  giant — a  good  giant — but 
nevertheless  a  giant ;  and  I  have  always  associated  him 
with  the  haunted  house  and  the  terrible-eyed  spectre. 
Poor  Stebbins  !  when  I  grew  up  to  be  a  man,  I  found 
him  in  reality  a  little  dapper-whiskered  fellow,  not  the 
ninth  part  of  a  giant.  In  fact,  he  turned  out  to  be  the 
little-dog  reality,  to  the  giant  apparition  of  my  fears. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  friendly  reader,  to  disparage  an 
old  patron.  I  think  well  of  him,  and  would  have  your 
honor  think  well,  not  only  of  him,  but  of  every  acquaint 
ance  of  mine  who  shall  be  introduced  to  your  honor. 

Mr. ,  no,  Colonel,  Stebbins  was  indeed  an  impor- 


GHOST     STORIES.  83 

tant  personage  in  our  city.  He  drilled  the  Shoepacs 
long  and  well.  Afterwards  lie  was  promoted  to  the 
Colonelcy  of  the  1st  Regt.,  1st  Brig.,  1st  Dist.  Mich. 
Militia,  and  rode  a  great  cream-colored  horse  that 
jumped  wide  ditches,  kicked  his  heels  in  the  air,  and 
ran  away  on  field-days,  occasionally.  Such  was  the 
Colonel's  popularity  that  he  became  Justice  of  the 
Peace.  This  dignity  ahroad,  and  a  sharp  wife  at  home, 
promoted  Stebbins  to  an  idler — a  gentleman-loafer,  too 
proud  to  work.  He  began  to  frequent  the  tavern,  and 
lounged  on  the  corners  of  streets. 

Now  Stebbins  has  no  work  to  give  the  poor. 

Guilford  March  was  tormented  by  delusions  of 
another  sort. 

Owing  to  his  steadiness  of  character  and  deliberation 
of  manner,  my  brother  was  patronized  by  lads  older, 
and  necessarily  wiser,  than  he. 

"  Do  you  chop  wood,  Guilford  ?  asked  one  of  his 
young  gentlemen  acquaintances. 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"What  for?" 

"  Why  my  mother  works  for  a  living,  and  I  need  not 
be  ashamed  of  it." 

"  Oh,  she's  a  woman  !"  replied  the  rising  Solomon. 

"Is  not  your  mother  a  woman  too?"  demanded 
Guilford. 

"Yes,  and  she  works" — the  lady  kept  a  genteel 
boarding  house — "  but  my  father  was  a  gentleman,  and  I 
play  gentleman  too," 


84  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  According  to  my  idea,  old  fellow,"  said  Guilford 
familiarly,  "  in  this  country  the  gentleman  is  the  man 
who  works — works  for  himself,  his  family  and  others. 
It  was  so  in  ancient  times.  The  real  gentlemen  of 
Greece  and  Eome  were  those  who  by  their  own  labors 
laid  the  foundation  of  states.  So  in  the  days  of  chivalry. 
The  great  knights  worked  their  way  up  as  pages, 
squires ;  could  cook  a  dinner,  chop  u  tree,  turn  a  horse 
shoe,  mend  a  saddle,  knew  what  hunger  was,  and  with 
their  own  hands  and  strength  achieved  greatness." 

"  Why,  Guilford,  you're  a  book  !" 

"  ~No  I  am  a  boy,"  said  Guilford,  after  the  fifth  vain 
blow  upon  a  knotty  piece  of  wood  which  he  was  essay 
ing  to  split.  The  sixth  blow  was  successful. 

"  Yes,  old  fellow,"  continued  the  lad,  as  he  leant  upon 
his  axe  and  wiped  his  brow.  "  I  like  playing  gentle 
man,  its  pleasant  to  stroll  and  hunt  ducks  and  pigeons  ; 
but  there's  little  satisfaction  in  thinking  that  it  all  comes 
to  nothing  in  the  end.  I'd  like  a  career." 

Accordingly  Guilford  tried  a  career.  It  was  three 
years  after  our  father  died.  He  had  been  a  fond  frequen 
ter  of  the  docks,  and  fallen  in  love  with  ships  and  sailors. 
My  brother  Guilford  was  not  immaculate — not  infallible, 
like  most  young  heroes  of  romance,  Guilford  ran  away, 
hid  himself  on  board  a  brig  bound  for  the  upper  coun 
try,  and  after  the  vessel  had  cleared  the  straits  he  showed 
himself  to  the  captain,  who  pleased  with  the  lad's  spirit 
and  engaging  frankness  and  judgment,  readily  undertook 
to  make  a  tar  of  him, 


GHOST     STORIES.  85 

Nobody  at  home  knew  what  had  become  of  Guilford 
March  during  several  weeks.  Then  he  wrote  to  his 
mother,  who  never  scolded,  but  replied  to  his  letter  in 
endearing  terms,  entered  with  him  into  the  spirit  of  his 
undertaking,  told  him.  to  visit  home  on  next  passing 
Detroit,  and  promised  the  usual  care  of  his  wardrobe,  a 
kit  of  which  should  be  ready,  nicely  washed,  mended, 
and  done  up,  with  a  little  Bible  to  read. 

Guilford  called,  in  a  tarpaulin  hat  with  an  unfathoma 
ble  length  of  black  ribbon — which  the  mischievous 
Mabel  cut  off  unknown  to  Jack  Tar — white  pants  with 
a  belt,  blue  shirt  with  the  collar  on  the  shoulders,  and  a 

small   quid   of  tobacco — which    seemed  to  m&ke  him 

u 
sick. 

Guilford  took  but  one  more  trip.  His  wages  were 
next  to  nothing,  he  dreamed  of  his  pale  mother.  The 
coarseness  of  his  associates  disgusted  him. 

His  return  among  his  old  associates  and  to  the  little 
duties  about  the  yard,  renewed*  the  irksomeness  of  a 
vacuous  life. 

School  did  not  seem  to  occupy  his  mind.  Guilford 
had  no  very  great  taste  for  school  books.  He  learned 
easily  and  forgot  quickly.  His  pleasure-grounds  lay  in 
histories,  and  books,  where  facts  of  real  life,  and  solid 
information  were  spread  around  him.  Yet  even  these 
did  not  fill  the  void  within,  or  occupy  the  desert 
before  him. 

One  day  my  brother  made  his  appearance  before  us 
with  his  clothes  tied  up  in  an  Indian  shawl.  With 


86  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

straight  forwardness,  lie  announced  to  his  mother  that 
he  was  going  to  seek  his  fortune. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  first,  my  son  ?"  she 
asked  with  a  smile  of  good  humor  peculiar  to  her. 

"  Be  a  farmer,  mother." 

•'  Where  will  you  go  ?" 

"  Mr.  Jumps  will  take  me,  I  will  work  my  way  up 
till  I  become  the  owner  of  a  farm,  and  then  you  shall 
all  come  and  dwell  with  me." 

"  Why  should  you  go  away  from  home  ?" 

"  This  for  ever  doing  servant's  work  is  beneath  me, 
and  offers  nothing  for  the  future." 

"  It  is  not  beneath  me,"  mildly  remonstrated  Mrs. 
March. 

Guilford  hesitated  ;  then  with  a  blush  he  said,  "  You 
are  not  a  March,  mother,  that  blood  you  know  comes  to 
me  through  father. 

"How  do  you  do,  Lord  Guilford?"  curtsied  Mabel. 

But  Lord  Guilford  was  not  easily  abashed ;  he  held 
on  bravely  and  sturdily  to  his  project — declared  that 
Cincinnatus  and  Washington  were  farmers ;  that  his 
mother  could  never  give  both  him  and  John  a  profes 
sion  ;  as  for  learning  any  trade,  or  turning  "  counter- 
jumper,"  he  never  would;  farming  was  the  only  work 
to  content  him,  and — " 

"  Yery  well,  my  son,  you  shall  go,"  said  Mrs.  March, 
and  there  was  a  peculiar  expression,  not  entirely  free 
from  pain  or  displeasure  on  her  face,  as  she  said  it.  She 
put  on  her  shawl  and  bonnet  and  said — 


GIIOSTSTORIES.  87 

"  Come,  Guilford,  let's  go." 

My  brother  turned  pale.  Mabel  ran  out  of  the  room. 
Maud  kissed  him,  with  a  pinch.  Our  old  servant, 
Bowes,  came  in,  wiping  her  hands,  and  told  him  she'd 
never  forgive  him*  but  she  stuffed  a  plate  of  dough-nuts 
into  his  bundle.  As  for  the  chicken-hearted  writer  of 
these  pages,  he  blubbered  louder  than  was  necessary  or 
usual  on  parting  solemnities.  Guilford  thrust  a  stick 
under  the  knot  of  the  bundle,  threw  it  over  his  shoulder, 
and  took  up  his  new  line  of  march. 

They  found  Farmer  Jumps  just  yoking  in  his  oxen 
near  the  market. 

Mrs.  March  took  him  aside  and  spoke  earnestly  with 
him  for  some  time.  He  listened  very  attentively  ;  but, 
whereas  my  mother  talked  and  looked  never  more 
seriously  in  her  life,  her  auditor  seemed  on  the  eve  of  a 
momentary  explosion  from  laughter.  I  do  not  know 
what  Mrs.  March  said,  although  novelists  are  supposed 
to  hear  everything ;  but  Mr.  Jumps  seemed  to  concur 
with  the  little  woman  in  black  very  heartily,  and  said 
aloud, 

"  I'll  adopt  a  course  with  him." 

Then  my  mother  took  her  leave  of  the  good  farmer, 
kissed  Guilford  tenderly  and  long,  and  silently  passed 
away  from  them.  In  a  few  minutes  the  team  was 
ready.  Jumps  gave  Guilford  a  lift  by  the  arm,  which 
tossed  him  easily  into  the  wagon,  cracked  his  long  whip, 
shouting, 

"  Go  'long !    Gee,  Bright !" 


88  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Guilford  March  was  once  more  adrift  on  the  wide, 
wide  world. 

The  absence  of  my  brother  was  felt  at  once  by  all  the 
family.  Maud  thought  she  had  neglected  him.  En 
grossed  as  she  was  with  her  own  secret  sorrow,  she  had 
not  entered  into  the  courts  of  her  brother's  troubled 
heart,  and  now,  with  her  accustomed  self-condemnation, 
she  stood  convicted  in  her  own  eyes  of  unsisterly  care 
lessness. 

Bowes  declared  we  couldn't  keep  house  without  him. 

"  Law  me,  suz !"  Bowes  more  than  once  exclaimed, 
"  if  my  little  man  was  only  at  home !" 

She  always  called  Guilford  her  little  man.  "If  my 
little  man  was  only  at  home,  things  wouldn't  go  on  so 
at  sixes  and  sevens.  Why,  Miss  Maud,  he's  worth 
more  than  all  of  'em  put  together." 

"  AH  of  'em,"  meant  myself  and  a  negro  man  who 
came  over  every  night  to  do  anything  too  heavy  for  me. 

Even  old  Brindle,  our  whimsical  cow,  appeared  to 
know  the  difference.  She  now  came  home  later  in  the 
evening,  and  presumed  occasionally  to  stay  out  all 
night.  Finally,  her  ladyship  must  be  put  at  pasture. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  let  down  and  set  up 
the  bars  that  allowed  ingress  and  egress  for  old  Brindle 
to  and  from  the  pasture-field. 

I  always  felt  friendly  towards  cattle  ;  their  breath 
was  so  sweet  and  their  ways  so  odd.  It  was  my  delight 
to  drive  a  long  line  of  them  home  as  the  sun  was  setting, 
or  in  the  mellow  twilight.  Brindle  always  placed  her- 


GHOST     STORIES.  89 

self,  methought,  at  the  head  of  them,  as  they  moved 
along,  swinging  and  switching  their  tails  and  chewing 
their  cuds — increasing  in  number  as  they  came,  and 
lowing  musically  in  different  keys.  I  had  accompanied 
Guilford  sometimes  in  his  wanderings  in  the  woods  after 
the  cows,  and  these  wanderings  together  began  to  make 
companions  of  us  again.  It  led  to  many  long  talks, 
world-wide  musings,  and  extensive  foundations  for  air- 
castles.  After  he  went,  having  no  one  to  talk  with 
except  an  occasional  French  boy,  I  went  dreaming  and 
talking  to  myself,  thought  of  my  "  father  in  heaven"  and 
my  poor  mother  on  earth,  and  had  many  a  little  story  to 
tell  Mabel  at  night,  sitting  in  front  of  the  kitchen  fire 
by  ourselves. 

But  what  more  of  old  Brindle  ? 

Ah !  she  was  an  eccentric  genius.  I  have  already 
mentioned  one  peculiarity.  Another  of  her  favorite 
customs  was,  to  kick ;  she  did  kick  outrageously. 
She  broke  her  foot  once,  kicking ;  though  that  made  no 
difference,  except  that  one  part  of  the  hoof  turned  over, 
and  rested  partly  on  the  other.  This  made  her  limp 
sometimes,  but  everybody  knew  it  was  sheer  female  af 
fectation  ;  for,  let  a  cow  attempt  to  pass  her  limping 
ladyship  in  the  procession  home,  and  see  with  what  a 
firm,  fast,  quick  tramp  she  recovered  her  position  at  the 
head  of  the  line.  And,  as  I  have  already  intimated, 
the  broken  foot  caused  no  diminution  in  her  kicking 
propensity.  Indeed  Bowes  always  tied  her  hind  legs. 
"When  Guilford  stood  by,  however,  it  was  only  necessary 


90  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  lay  the  rope  across  lior  feet,  so  that  she  might  feel  its 
pressure.  It  was  fly-time  now,  and  Guilford  was  gone, 
to  boot,  and  so  poor  Bowes  and  Brindle  had  no  peace. 

"  She  kicks  dreadfully.     I  don't  know  what  ails  the 
crittur,"  quoth  Bowes. 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     WEST.  91 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   SCHOOLMASTER   OUT   WEST. 

On  yon  gray  stone  that  fronts  the  chancel  door, 
Worn  smooth  by  busy  feet  now  seen  no  more, 
Each  eve  wg  shot  the  marble  through  the  ring, 
When  the  heart  danced,  and  life  was  in  its  spring. 


ROGERS. 


SCHOOLBOYS  have  always  their  leaders.  It  is  not  scho 
larship  that  is  required  so  much  as  courage,  audacity, 
tact.  The  best  scholar  ma}^  be  a  Tom  Tit,  the  idlest 
truant,  king. 

Our  champions  were  Abe  and  Dick. 

Abraham  was  a  strapping  young  fellow,  no  one  ever 
knew  where  from.  He  "  hired  out  around  town  "  as  the 
phrase  was,  and  did  service,  now  as  ostler  and  out  of 
doors  servant  for  a  gentleman  whom  every  body  loved 
• — consequently  was  universally  popular.  He  was  our 
recognised  leader. 

Equal  to  him  in  all  but  color  was  Dick,  a  clever 
mulatto  boy.  His  master  was  a  merchant,  and  his  own 
servant,  companion,  right  arm,  everything,  was  a  beauti 
ful  dog,  a  Newfoundland — widely  known  as  "  Cap  " 
among  friends,  and  "  Captain  '*  among  strangers. 

Now  it  is  notorious,  that  the  celebrated  little  city  of 


92  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Detroit  is  intersected  at  right  angles  through  wliat  was 
formerly  the  centie  of  tho  city — in  fact  it  was  thought 
by  many  generations  that  it  always  would  continue  to  be 
the  centre,  notwithstanding  the  prognostication  of  the 
little  crazy  engineer  who,  being  employed  to  lay  out  the 
streets,  threw  the  centre  a  mile  back  from  the  river. 
This  proceeding  only  shows  how  one  crazy  man  may  be 
wiser  than  a  whole  city,  for  time  has  proved  the  wisdom 
of  the  thing. 

If  my  reader  will  pardon  the  digression,  I  will  also 
relate  how  the  little  crack-brained  engineer  outdid  the 
city  wag,  even  into  the  putting  of  money  into  the  good 
little  gentleman's  purse. 

Few  soberminded  men  foresaw  the  rapid  settlement 
of  the  great  "West  at  the  early  time  of  the  petit  maUre 
d'ecole,  and  civil  engineer,  Monsieur  Adolph  Theodolite. 
This  prophetic  genius,  however,  did  foresee,  and  made 
arrangements  to  enrich  himself  thereby.  He  made  a 
map.  The  emigrant  needed  a  map,  inquired  for  Theo 
dolite's  map,  bought  the  little  French  mathematician's 
map,  and  for  the  first  period  of  his  life  Adolph  owned 
two  good  coats.  Then  the  shrewd  Yankee  auctioneer 
and  city  wag,  Mr.  Jephunneh  Nutmeg,  with  the  charita 
ble  view  of  enriching  himself  even  at  Adolph's  expense 
• — for  who  would  mind  taking  profitable  advantage  of  a 
little  crazy  Frenchman?— entered  into  negociations  for 
Adolph's  map.  To  Mr.  Nutmeg's  astonishment  Adolph 
was  too  prudent  to  part  with  his  treasure,  without  a  fair 
compensation.  Xutmeg  offered  fifty  piastres. 


THE     SCHOOL  MAS  TEE     OUT      WEST.  93 

"  By  gar !  Monsieur  Nutmeg,  you  tink  me  fool,  heigh  ? 
you  shall  not  have  cle  leetle  map  for  less  dan  one  tousand 
dollar!" 

In  vain  Nutmeg  assured  Adolph  that  the  emigration, 
fever  would  soon  subside,  and  pointed  back  by  way  of 
confirmation  to  the  decades  of  years  already  elapsed 
during  which  no  such  thing  had  ever  been  known. 

Adolph's  reply  was,  "  Then  what  for  you  want  him  ?" 

In  vain  Nutmeg  raised  his  offer  to  one  hundred,  two, 
five,  seven,  eight  hundred  dollars.  Monsieur  Adolph 
Theodolite  had  his  legs  planted  in  immovable  rock. 

Finally  Nutmeg  paid  the  price,  and  issued  numerous 
flaming  advertisements  which  he  sent  East  and  "VVestj 
North  and  South,  far  and  near. 

Meanwhile  the  witless  Adolph  was  not  idle.  He  took 
his  thousand  dollars,  went  to  New  York,  where  he  got 
out  an  essentially  new  map  covering  the  same  country 
but  embracing  new  surveys,  new  towns,  new  counties, 
up  to  the  last  hour. 

"What  was  the  surprise  of  Jephunneh,  the  shrewd 
Yankee  ?  His  visions  of  riches  gone !  Outwitted  by  a 
Frenchman,  little  better  than  a  fool !  How  the  towns 
people  laughed  in  their  sleeve  as  they  passed  the 
auctioneer  !  How  they  stopped  at  the  street-corners  and 
joked  about  it ! 

It  was  good  to  the  ancicn  regime  thus  in  the  midst  of 
the  conflict  raging  between  their  easy  old  customs,  and 
the  sharp,  eager,  pushing  innovations  of  the  Yankees,  to 
see  one  of  their  little  ones  gain  the  advantage. 


94  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Monsieur  Adolph  Theodolite  gave  up  school  teaching 
and  surveying  for  the  nonce,  and  took  to  selling  his  new 
map,  which  brought  him  a  fortune.  Would  we  might 
leave  him  here.  The  restless  little  man  plunged  into 
new  schemes,  dived  with  excitement  into  the  sea  of 
speculation,  and  came  out  the  same  as  a  poor  man. 

Alas  !  poor  Adolph  Theodolite ! 

And  yet  the  wisdom  of  his  enterprises  isniow  admitted. 
Steepled  ports  and  towns  are  towering  where  he  pre 
dicted  they  would  stand.  Like  most  men  in  advance  of 
his  age  he  was  stigmatized,  in  a  laughing  way,  as  insane. 

But  to  our  story. 

At  the  intersection  of  the  two  main  avenues  of  the 
city  stood  the  market-house,  where  the  butchers  from 
time  immemorial  had  honored  Saint  Patrick  by  hanging 
his  saintship  in  effigy.  This,  or  rather  the  open  square 
in  front,  was  the  common  rendezvous  for  the  clients  of 
Abe  and  Dick. 

Soon  after  dusk  on  any  moonlight  night,  in  pleasant 
seasons  of  the  year,  you  might  hear  the  loud  whistle  and 
cheery  voice  of  Abe,  as  he  came  capering  down  the 
street.  Then  followed  the  banging  of  doors,  as  the  lads 
rushed  out  after  him,  having  incontinently  thrown  down 
their  books. 

From  the  opposite  part  of  the  town  came  Dick,  troll 
ing  one  of  the  early  negro  melodies,  "  Zip  Coon,"  or 
"  Ole  Virginny  neber  tire,' '  with  the  loud  accompani 
ment  of  rattling  and  banging  doors,  as  the  boys  from  his 
end  of  the  city  flew  after  Dick. 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     "WEST.  95 

When  gathered  at  the  market-square,  what  sports! 
what  merry  games  of  red  lion,  crack  the  whip,  or  leap 
frog  ! 

Sometimes  we  would  consort  together  at  the  school 
yard — that  green  spot  in  every  man's  memory.  Our 
school-yard  was  covered  with  grass.  The  basement  of 
the  school-house  made  us  a  capital  jail.  Abe  was  the 
jailor,  Dick  the  sheriff,  with  Cap  for  deputy.  "We  hid 
ourselves  anywhere  within  certain  limits  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  school-house  ;  and  when  buried  far  in  the  depths 
of  a  hay-loft,  or  among  the  dark  places  of  some  ruined 
building,  or  in  a  wood-pile.  I  used  to  enjoy  such 
excitement — listening  for  the  dreaded,  yet  half-wished- 
for  steps  of  the  stealthy  Dick,  and  the  searching  Cap, 
with  his  eager  bark  or  disappointed  snuffle. 

Cap  was  trained  to  the  highest  point.  lie  was  as 
accomplished  a  man  or  boy  catcher  as  a  bloodhound,  and 
as  expert  a  thief  as  any  London  pickpocket.  Seldom 
known  to  bite,  he  would  hold  you  gently  by  the  collar 
till  his  master  came  up,  and  then  pick  your  pocket  with 
a  grace.  Dick  was  such  a  good-hearted  fellow,  he 
never  abused  the  power  this  dog  gave  him  over  the 
boys.  Little  did  I  know  then  how  much  influence  the 
acquaintance  with  this  mulatto  was  one  day  to  exert 
over  my  earthly  career.  Lucky,  happy  days  of  boy 
hood's  democratic  equality  !  I  love  you  more  and  more 
as  I  look  back. 

Behold  us  again,  seated  or  lying  on  the  grass  in  the 
bright  moonshine,  or  along  the  fence,  perched  like  so 


96  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

many  sociable  birds,  telling  stories  or  singing  songs. 
Those  were  times  when  the  wisest  of  us  all  more  than 
half-believed  the  tales  of  fairy  land,  the  Arabian  Nights' 
Entertainments,  and  Pilgrim's  Progress — an  astounding 
favorite  with  me.  Arid  who  now  so  rash  as  gainsay 
the  truth  of  the  good  old  stories  ?  Happy  he  who  par 
takes  largely  of  these  Eden  trees,  eating  the  fruits  in 
childhood,  and  digesting  the  truth  of  them  further  on  in 
his  pilgrimage ! 

Then  the  music  of  childhood,  boyhood,  youth !  What 
opera  airs,  trilled  by  maestro  or  prima  donna,  so  sweet 
as  the  good  old  simple  songs,  in  the  long  ago  of  tender 
years  and  tender  hearts  ? 

Dick's  negro  melodies,  with  our  rude  choruses,  were 
miracles  of  harmony.  But  "  Blue-eyed  Stranger,"  that 
was  one  of  Dick's  better  songs,  our  greatest  favorite. 
Then  there  was  a  little  lisping  urchin,  a  tavern-keeper's 
son,  whose  singing  was  popular,  from  his  lisp,  and  from 
the  quaintness  and  rustic  simplicity  of  the  words.  I 
remember  but  one  verse  : 

"  Oh !  can  she  knit, 

And  can  she  sew, 
And  can  she  make 
The  shuttle  go, 

Jimmy,  Jimmy,  boy  ? 
Yes,  she  can  knit, 

And  she  can  sew, 
And  she  can  make 
The  shuttle  go, 

Mammy,  mammy,  dear." 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER      OUT      WEST.  97 

Whereupon,  in  the  succeeding  verses,  the  mother  grants 
consent,  and  Jimmy  marries  the  accomplished  damsel 
he  loves  and  praises. 

But  independent  of  Dick's  dog  and  his  Blue-eyed 
Stranger,  there  was  an  additional  interest  excited  by 
Dick  in  the  hearts  of  small  boys  at  that  time.  The 
Morgan  excitement  was  running  high,  and  Dick  the 
sheriff,  on  catching  an  urchin,  always  inquired — 

"  Mason  or  Anti-mason?" 

and  let  the  prisoner  go  free,  or  toted  him  off  to  the  jail, 
according  to  his  reply.  We  youngsters  long  thought 
Dick  must  be  initiated  in  all  the  dreadful  mysteries  of 
the  secret  order.  And  to  this  day,  I  remove  my  hat 
reverently  whenever  I  meet  a  man  known  to  be  a 
Mason  (or  even  Know  Nothing),  for  Dick's  sake.  That 
both  Abe  and  Dick  were  Shoepacs  I  never  had  the 
least  doubt,  and  I  respect  them  accordingly. 

A  distinguished  occasion  once  served  to  test  the  abil 
ity  and  courage  of  our  champions.  After  having  man 
aged  the  schoolmasters  since  the  beginning  of  time,  as 
proved  by  all  accounts,  both  traditional  and  historical, 
the  boys  of  our  quaint  little  antique  city  had  imposed 
upon  them,  at  the  hands  of  Archibald  Magroy,  LL.D. 
and  other  trustees,  a  master  who  dared  to  assume  the 
reins  of  government  himself.  During  the  golden  age 
when  Allen  and  John  were  little  lads,  the  numbers  of 
ferules  and  birchen  rods  destroyed  must  have  been 
great.  An  occasional  punishment  by  violence  was 
tolerated,  but  every  abuse  of  the  penal  power  was 

5 


98  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

resented,  either  secretly  or  openly,  by  the  good  fellows 
of  the  school ;  and  schoolmasters  were  taught,  by  whole 
some  experience,  what  those  limits  were,  beyond  which 
they  passed  at  their  peril. 

The  present  worshipful  chancellor  of  the  rod,  Mr. 
Merciful  Thrasher,  chose,  presnmingly,  to  mark  the 
jurisdiction  of  his  own  court  of  equity ;  and  such  an  in 
fraction  of  popular  sovereignty  was  not  to  be  tolerated. 
Mr.  Thrasher  was  a  gentleman  of  medium  height,  slen 
der  figure,  a  decided  expression  and  manner,  and  much 
pride  of  character.  His  first  step  was  to  take  the  bull 
by  the  horns,  and  thrash  the  largest  youths.  His  bold 
ness  overawed  the  little  Athens,  and  they  forthwith 
began  to  conspire  together  to  undermine  his  throne  ; 
but  by  virtue  of  his  spies,  he  outwitted  them  here.  As 
a  measure  of  last  resort,  the  aid  of  Abe  and  Dick,  their 
allies,  was  demanded. 

An  innocent  little  fight  between  two  lads — bullies 
among  their  fellows — had  been  arranged  and  went  off 
nicely.  The  principals,  accessories — before  and  after — 
witnesses — in  short  all  parties  to  this  case,  were  brought 
to  light,  and  on  the  following  day  were  to  be  brought  to 
punishment.  JSTow  the  time-honored  right  to  put  boy 
against  boy  and  raise  a  fight  at  a  moment's  notice  had, 
to  say  the  least,  been  winked  at  by  all  persons  in  autho 
rity — and  here  the  oppressed  parties  determined  to  make 
a  stand  for  their  ancient  privileges. 

A  meeting  was  held  by  night  in  the  school  yard. 

The  case  is  stated. 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     WEST.  99 

"  Well,"  said  Abe,  "  what  is  he  going  to  do  ?" 

"I  sliouldn'L  wonder,''  replied  one,  "if  he  flogged  ns 
to-morrow  from  a  to  izzard." 

"  With  what  ?" 

"  He  sent  out  this  afternoon  to  the  bush,  and  had  a 
dozen  birch  slicks  cut  and  brought  in. 

"I'm  of  the  opinion,"  quoth  Dick,  "that  you'd  better 
all  cut  stick  yourselves — that  is,  come  up  missing  to 
morrow  morning." 

"That  will  only  defer  the  matter  till  another  day. 
All  Merciful  takes  his  time.  I  never  knew  him  to  whip 
a  chap  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  He's  as  cool  as  a 
cucumber." 

"  Then,"  said  Dick,  "  suppose  you  all  quit  school  ?" 

"  Folks  at  home  won't  stand  that." 

"  Then  I  gives  it  up." 

Abe,  however,  was  not  of  Dick's  despairing  humor. 

"  Where  are  those  rods  ?"  he  asked. 

"In  the  desk." 

"Can  you  unlock  it?" 

"  No,  we've  tried  all  the  keys  in  the  town  I  believe, 
every  one  of  us  brought  all  we  could  from  home." 

"Is  the  school-house  door  locked?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  the  windows  fastened  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Abe,  and  Dick,  and  several  of  the  larger  boys  now 
drew  off"  a  one  side  for  consultation.  On  their  return 
they  announced  nothing  to  be  done  that  night,  and  the 


100  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

little  fellows  were  told  they  might  as  well  go  home — 
which  the  most  of  us.  myself  among  the  number, 
innocently  did.  It  came  to  light  afterwards  that  there 
was  a  lurking  suspicion  in  the  breast  of  one  of  our 
urchins,  who  ran  straight  to  Mr.  Thrasher's  lodgings,  and 
made  known  to  the  master  everything  that  had  been  so 
far  said  or  done. 

Shortly  afterwards  Abe  and  Dick,  who  had  pretended 
to  go  home,  returned  to  the  school-yard  in  company 
with  the  boys,  and  proceeded  to  fulfill  their  intention. 
The  rods  must  be  destroyed  that  night  by  some  means 
or  other.  At  last  it  was  thought  best,  for  fear  of  detec 
tion,  that  the  two  champions  only  should  have  a  hand  in 
it,  for  there  was  as  great  a  desire  to  outwit  their  master 
as  to  escape  the  threatened  flogging. 

Accordingly  the  two  worthies  advanced  to  a  window 
and  raised  it.  Abe  climbed  in.  Dick  remained  outside 
standing  guard.  The  first  thing  heard  from  Abe  was  an 
exclamation  of  pain  as  his  leg  came  in  sharp  contact 
with  a  bench. 

Dick  laughed,  "  Hope  it  wasn't  you  shin,  old  boy,  he ! 
he!" 

Abe  was  next  heard  to  utter  something  about  the 
darkness  of  the  room,  and  all  was  again  silent. 

"  Can't  you  find  the  desk  ?"  whispered  Dick. 

"  No !  I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  one  here." 

"  Be  quick  !"  said  Dick  ;  "I  hear  a  step. 

"  Quick !  quick  !  golly,  somebody's  coming — Massa 
Thrasher  himself!" 


THE     SCOOLMASTEK     OUT     WEST.  101 

"  I've  found  'eni !"  cried  A.be. 

"  So  have  I,  you  rascals  !"  pealed  forth  the  voice  of 
All  Merciful,  as  he  pushed  his  way  through  the  dark  to 
where  Dick  stood,  whom  not  minding,  he  sprang  for  the 
open  window  to  catch  the  ringleader  himself. 

"  Don't  let  him  in  I"  cried  Abe. 

Cap  had  already  seized  the  schoolmaster  by  the  seat 
of  his  pantaloons. 

"  Down !  down,  Cap  !"  cried  Dick,  as  he  took  hold 
himself.  The  obedient  Cap  let  go.  and  Dick  drew  down 
the  enemy,  who  turned  upon  him  fiercely ;  and  while 
the  two  were  struggling,  Abe  shouted — 

"  Hold  him !  hold  him  !"  until  he  had  destroyed  the 
rods,  regained  the  window,  and  leaped  over  their  heads 
to  the  ground. 

According  to  the  plan  previously  concerted,  the  two 
champions  were  to  escape  detection,  if  possible.  By  a 
violent  jerk,  Dick  succeeded  in  extricating  himself  from 
the  clutch  of  Mr.  Thrasher,  and  took  to  his  heels.  But 
ere  Abe,  who  stood,  by,  waiting  to  see  his  companion 
free,  could  follow  his  example,  All  Merciful  grasped 
him,  evidently  bent  on  distinguishing  who  it  might  be 
that  had  so  boldly  invaded  his  dominions  and  destroyed 
his  magazines.  But  Abe  was  favored  by  the  darkness. 

"  Let  go  !  Let  go  !  I  give  you  fair  warning,"  said 
Abe,  averting  his  face. 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  I  believe  you  are  a  thief,  sir  !" 
cried  Mr.  Merciful  Thrasher. 


102  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

This  enraged  the  honest  Abraham,  and  twining  on<- 
of  his  long  arms  around  the  schoolmaster,  he  grasped 
the  slender  man  as  if  in  a  vice,  and  lifting  him  from  the 
ground,  attempted  to  overthrow  him  by  an  effort  of 
main  strength.  But  it  seemed  that  Merciful  was  no  pooi 
wrestler,  and  his  agility  put  him  on  a  level  with  Abe, 
and  a  regular  wrestling  match  ensued.  Dick  would 
fain  have  aided  his  friend,  but  the  latter  ordered  him  off. 

"  Keep  off,  Dick,  just  see  fair  play  !" 

By  this  time  a  few  of  the  boys  had  gathered  around 
the  wrestlers.  Great  was  their  mingled  awe,  astonish 
ment,  joy,  and  semi-regret,  to  behold  the  only  master 
they  had  ever  feared  or  respected  wrestling  on  the  grass 
with  Abe  the  ostler.  At  last  Abe  got  his  adversary 
under,  so  as  to  hold  him. 

"  Promise  to  do  nothing  about  it,  Mr.  Thrasher,"  said 
the  boys'  champion. 

"  Never !"  gasped  forth  the  schoolmaster  from  between 
his  teeth. 

Two  of  the  boys  came  forward  and  interceded  for  their 
vanquished  enemy.  But  Abe  vowed  he  would  hold 
him  down  until  morning,  unless  he  promised  what  was 
required.  Attempting  at  this  moment  to  change  his 
hold,  his  adversary  seized  the  instant,  and  nearly  suc 
ceeded  in  turning  Abe.  The  latter  now  called  for  Dick, 
and  by  means  of  a  combined  effort  they  dragged  the 
discomfited  knight  of  the  birch  to  the  door  of  the  base 
ment  story  of  the  schoolhouse — their  jail — and  were 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     WEST.  103 

about  to  make  him  prisoner,  long  enough,  at  least,  for 
them  to  secure  their  own  escape,  when  Mr.  Thrasher 
rendered  the  promise. 

"  Neither  to  say  anything  about  this  night,  nor  punish, 
any  of  the  boys  to-morrow  ?" 

"  Neither !" 

"  Never  flog  any  of  them  again  ?" 

"Never!" 

"  Keep  your  word  like  a  man  ?" 

"Yes!" 

Abe  and  Dick  let  go. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Merciful  Thrasher,  to  those  of  his 
scholars  who  were  standing  near,  "  I  have  taught  school 
in  many  places.  This  is  my  first  defeat.  I  shall  take  a 
steamboat  to-morrow  morning  for  the  West." 

The  boys  handed  him  his  cap  in  silence.  He  drew  it 
over  his  brows,  and  strode  homewards — the  boys  mak 
ing  way  for  him  respectfully. 

Before  he  reached  his  quarters,  however,  he  was 
overtaken  by  a  committee  of  the  lads,  who  attempted  to 
apologize  through  their  spokesman. 

"  No  sir  !  no  sir  !     No  apologies." 

They  offered,  in  the  name  of  the  school,  to  make  any 
amends  in  their  power. 

"  No  sir.  You  were  obliged  to  call  in  foreign  aid.  I 
will  not  trust  any  of  you  again.  No  atonement  possi 
ble — no  atonement." 

His  feelings,  however,  were  touched  by  their  kind 
ness  and  regret.  He  shook  hands  with  them  gratefully, 


104  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

yet  proudly,  requesting  them  to  prevent  the  lads  of  the 
school  from  going  to  the  boat  the  next  morning  to  see 
him  oft'.  This  was  readily  promised. 

On  the  following  morning  the  school  met  as  usual. 
Nothing  was  said  of  the  incidents  of  the  previous  night 
until  the  hour  of  the  steamer's  departure  had  gone  by. 
When  the  fact  of  the  vacancy  of  the  throne  was 
announced,  three  cheers  were  given  for  the  dethroned 
monarch,  three  times  three  for  Abe  and  Dick.  The 
boys  dispersed  for  their  homes  with  the  news,  too  good, 
almost,  to  be  true, — "  Xo  school !  no  school !" 

The  question  of  school  discipline  now  became  one  of 
grave  importance  with  the  city  patriarchs  and  squires. 
The  interregnum  lasted  many  months,  no  one  being 
forthcoming  of  sufficient  self-confidence  to  assume  the 
pedagogic  reins. 

After  great  pains,  and  extensive  inquiries  over  the 
Eastern  States,  the  place  of  Merciful  Thrasher  was 
filled. 

The  name  of  this  hardy  adventurer  was  Oliphant,  and 
he  was  an  M.D.  The  boys  called  him  Dr.  Oily  Fat. 
Boys  are  ingenious  at  nicknames ;  they  frequently  ex 
press  contraries.  So  it  was  in  this  case,  for  Oily  Fat 
was  as  lean  as  Cassius,  and  never  had  known  the  luxury 
of  fat  in  his  life.  But  he  was  an  athletic,  sinewy  man, 
and  combined  knowledge  with  power  beyond  precedent 
or  rivalry. 

"What  his  true  history  was,  no  one  ever  knew ;  for  he 
told  such  extraordinary  things  of  himself,  that  no  one 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     WEST.  105 

but  the  youngest  pretended  to  believe  anything  he  said 
— at  least  concerning  himself.  And  yet  it  might  be 
true,  for  he  appeared  equal  to  any  emergency.  The 
doctor  was  a  remarkable  man  every  way.  His  look  was 
ludicrously  frightful;  he  had  straight  standing  black 
hair,  black  eyes  that  "never  fell  before  mortal  or 
immortal,"  so  Oily  Fat  often  declared  emphatically, 
and  immense  whiskers.  Those  whiskers  !  I  never  shall 
forget  them.  One  was  black,  the  other  a  fiery  red! 
This  is  no  fiction.  Did  he  not  dye  the  red  one  every 
month  or  two,  and  did  he  not,  while  the  process  of 
coloring  was  going  on,  wear  a  white  kerchief  around  his 
face,  and  say  he  had  the  tooth-ache,  when  any  little 
innocent  kindly  inquired  of  the  doctor  what  was  the 
matter  ? 

Doctor  Oliphant's  appearance  went  a  long  way  in 
his  favor  from  the  threshold.  Then  his  course  of  pro 
ceedings  was  no  less  inspiring.  God  forgive  him  the 
false  words  he  spake,  though  doubtless  for  our  good, 
and  in  order  to  obtain  that  influence  necessary  over 
young  minds,  and  the  use  of  that  ferule  necessary  to 
young  shoulders. 

He  had  taught  school  in  no  less  than  fifteen  States 
This  was  not  the  first  occasion  he  had  been  summoned 
to  break  in  refractory  schools.  He  had  been  sent  for 
frequently  from  one  end  of  the  Union  to  the  other  for 
precisely  this  purpose.  He  never  had  any  trouble  but 
twice.  Iri  Georgia,  he  was  obliged  to  knock  down  ever 
so  many  tall  fellows.  He  had  marvellous  stories  of 


106  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

handcuffs  and  fetters.  And  in  Tennessee  he  did  not 
succeed  in  curbing  the  spirit  of  insubordination  until  he 
introduced  coffins,  and  laid  pistols  on  the  table,  coolly 
remarking;,  that  the  first  mutineer  should  fill  one  of 

O  / 

those  coffins. 

His  pathway  to  our  hearts  was  no  less  bold  and  admi 
rable,  though  not  so  horribly  picturesque.  He  permit 
ted  little  manifestations  of  insubordination  on  the  part 
of  small  boys  to  pass.  The  first  victim  was  the  largest 
boy  in  school,  and  son  of  the  greatest  man  in  the  city, 
no  less  a  dignitary  than  our  newly-arrived  Governor. 
This  youth  was  a  wild,  good  fellow,  the  ringleader  in  all 
mischief.  On  this  occasion  he  declared  the  master 
should  not  thrash  a  certain  one  of  the  little  fellows,  as 
the  doctor  was  proceeding  to  administer  one  or  two 
light  blows  of  his  ferule  on  the  hand  of  a  wincing, 
whimpering  urchin. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  scene  which  was 
enacted  before  our  eyes.  Suffice  to  say,  the  doctor 
conquered,  and  flogged  the  rebel  intermeddler  soundly. 
He  seemed  never  to  have  done.  He  ordered  him  to 
stand  on  the  benches,  on  the  desks,  on  the  very  stove, 
and  at  each  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  victim,  he 
administered  a  "  dose,"  as  we  always  called  his  thwacks. 

That  bold  punishment  put  an  end  to  school-boy  reign 
in  our  city.  Many  fine  points  there  were,  too,  about 
our  terrible  master.  His  absolute  sway  was  never 
abused  but  in  the  one  instance  recorded.  A  poor  boy, 
or  one  of  tender  years,  he  scarcely  punished.  He  was 


THE     SCHOOLMASTER     OUT     WEST.  107 

an  eloquent  lecturer,  and  introduced  an  entire  change 
in  studying,  for  although  it  had  traditionally  been  voted 
a  bore  to  study — now  it  became  a  pleasure.  He  lec 
tured  enthusiastically  on  arithmetic,  the  driest  of  sub 
jects,  and  performed  beautiful  experiments  in  chemistry 
— then  a  new  science  among  us.  So  great  was  the  inte 
rest  in  this  study,  that  many  scapegraces  sat.  up  all  the 
night,  voluntarily,  and  laboriously  burnished  plates  of 
the  now  old-fashioned  galvanic  battery,  with  which  he 
performed  such  wonders ! 

Yes,  I  believe,  after  all,  that  our  good  friend,  Dr. 
Oliphant  was  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar  ;  And  if  God 
forgave,  or  he  himself  believed,  the  ingenious  fictions 
which  he  palmed  off  upon  our  credulous  young  minds, 
I  have  no  doubt  he  died  as  a  Christian.  God  may 
forgive  a  falsehood  told  a  child,  but  the  child  never 
does.  ~No  matter  what  apparent  necessity,  or  how  good 
soever  the  motive,  when  you  come  to  detect  the  deceit, 
and  see  that  those  who  had  the  care  of  you  imposed 
upon  you,  trifled  with  your  understanding,  cheated, 
deluded  you,  it  lessens  your  confidence  in  the  integrity 
of  man,  and  violates  the  majesty  of  truth  eternal  in  your 
breast. 


108  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   SQUATTER   LIFE. 

None  can  describe  the  sweets  of  country  life, 

But  those  blessed  men  that  do  enjoy  and  taste  them. 

Mxv's  Agrippina. 

will  Guilford  come  home,  mamma?"  said 
Mabel,  one  evening  as  we  were  all  sitting  around  the 
sewing-table. 

"  I  wish,  Mabel  might  tell  me,"  replied  my  mother. 
"  He  grew  weary  of  the  apron-strings,  1  suppose ;  and 
became  too  much  of  a  man  for  '  chores.' " 

"  Too  much  of  a  man !"  exclaimed  Mabel,  "  why,  he 
is  only  twelve  years  of  age — not  much  older  than 
"Walter,  and  he  never  will  grow  tired  of  us,  I  know." 

"Twelve  years!"  said  Maud,  "he  is  twelve  centu 
ries  !  Has  he  not  running  in  his  veins  all  the  blood  of 
all  the  Howards?" 

"We  were  laughing  at  this  when  the  door  opened  and 
there  appeared  an  unknown  character  in  a  strange 
costume  for  our  town — not  yet  opulent  enough  for 
beggars.  A  little  old  stunted  giant  in  rags,  at  least  out 
at  the  elbows  and  out  at  the  knees,  his  hat  torn  on  the 
crown,  and  slouched  over  his  dirty  face.  No  one  recog 
nised  this  unique  personage. 


A     GLIMPSE      OF     SQUATTER     LIFE.  109 

"Friends,"  came  a  low  voice,  "can  you  give  me 
something  to  eat  and  a  " 

Here  the  low  voice  broke  down  completely. 

"  Take  off  your  hat,  young  sir,"  said  Mrs.  March,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  say. 

The  hat  was  removed. 

"  Guilford !  Guilford !"  shouted  Mabel,  and  she  ran 
up  to  the  ragged  urchin  and  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck. 

Mrs.  March,  too,  caught  him  in  her  arms  and 
strained  him  hysterically  to  her  breast.  "  My  boy !  my 
Guilford !  my  son  !  what  in  the  world  has  happened 
thee  ?  Where  have  you  been  ?  How  comes  this  so  ?" 

"  Farming,"  answered  Guilford. 

Then  he  came  and  sat  down  between  Maud  and  me 
in  front  of  the  bright  fire-place,  while  Mabel  ran  out  to 
tell  the  news  to  Bowes. 

"I  have  had  enough  of  farming,"  said  Guilford. 

"  Good !  good  !"  laughed  and  cried  Mabel,  who  reap 
peared  with  Bowes,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  apron 
again  and  again.  She  always  did  this  when  excited. 

Bowes  ran  up  wildly  to  her  "  little  man,"  kissed  him 
and  rushed  out  nearly  tearing  her  apron  to  pieces.  Then 
Bowes  flew  away  to  the  cow-yard,  shouting 

"  The  little  man's  come !  Brindle,  the  little  man 's 
come !" 

And  she  patted  Brindle  on  the  shoulder.  But  that 
dignified  quadruped  vouchsafed  no  reply.  She  gave 
one  or  two  uneasy  switches  with  her  tail,  and  finally 


110  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

tossed  her  horns  wickedly  around  towards  the  little 
crazy  woman.  And  Bowes  called  her  an  old  thing,  or 
hussy,  or  something  severe,  and  hurried  back  to  the 
kitchen,  where  she  found  Mabel  zealously  hunting  after 
some  potatoes  to  put  on  to  roast  for  the  hungry  returned 
prodigal.  Then  Bowes  and  Mabel  had  a  very  satisfac 
tory  talk  on  the  exciting  cause  of  so  much  stir  about 
the  house,  and  in  a  little  while  they  came  in  with  cold 
meat,  hot  baked  Mackinaw  potatoes,  Bowes's  bread,  and 
Brindle's  butter. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  supper  everybody  drew 
near  the  fire,  Bowes  and  all,  to  hear  Guilford's  story. 
But  as  he  was  frequently  interrupted,  and  he  himself 
frequently  strayed  off  in  his  narration,  we  shall  convey 
it  to  the  reader  in  a  more  straight-forward  manner  of 
our  own,  though  the  story  may  suffer  by  the  tell 
ing. 

Farmer  Jumps  and  Guilford  reached  the  farm-house 
at  about  nightfall.  The  sweet  smell  of  the  woods 
pleased  Guilford  now  in  a  new  sense,  he  began  to  feel  a 
sort  of  proprietorship  in  it,  it  was  to  be  his  atmosphere. 

Great  was  the  manifest  surprise  of  Dame  Jumps  on 
beholding  our  little  hero.  How  a  well-dressed  city  boy 
should  ask  her  old  man  Jumps  to  come  out  and  live  on 
the  farm,  was  a  nine  days'  wonder:  she  continued  all 
the  evening  to  gaze  at  him.  with  astonishment. 

"Why  Jumps,  what  on  airth  are  you  going  to  do 
with  him  ?" 

"  Make  a  farmer  of  him." 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  SQUATTER  LIFE.    Ill 

"Wall,  I  do  declare !  Wall,  did  you  ever?  Wall,  I 
never!"  was  all  that  she  could  add. 

There  were  three  little  Jumpses,  though  one,  the 
eldest,  was  a  pretty  long  leap,  a  tall  stem  of  a  youth, 
that  looked  as  if  he  had  sprouted  forth  in  a  night.  This 
was  Joram  Jumps.  He  was  about  fourteen  years  of 
age.  Then  came  a  boy  of  twelve,  and  a  flaxen-haired 
limp  of  a  girl  of  ten.  The  children  seemed  to  regard 
Guilford  with  the  wonder  of  their  mother,  added  to  a 
little  awe  of  their  own,  and  they  moved  about  like 
mutes,  treating  their  city  guest  with  an  occasional  stare. 

The  interior  of  our  beautiful  peninsula  was  but 
thinly  settled,  and  the  country  around  Farmer  Jumps's 
was  almost  a  wilderness.  His  house  was  a  mere  cabin 
of  logs,  chinked  with  a  clayey  mud,  composed  of  one 
story,  and  that  contained  but  the  common  room  in 
which  the  family  ate,  sat,  slept,  shook  with  fever  and 
ague,  and  held  periodical  prayer  meetings  for  the  pio 
neers  of  the  neighborhood. 

Some  short  cakes  were  baking  in  a  spider  over  the 
coals  as  Guilford  entered.  An  iron  tea-kettle  was  sing 
ing  a  cheerful  welcome  and  waving  its  little  fleecy 
banners  of  steam,  and  by  the  time  Jumps  had  turned 
off  the  cattle  and  re-entered,  the  cabin,  was  filled  with 
the  rich  odor  of  frying  pork  and  potatoes,  and  Dame 
Jumps,  assisted  by  her  daughter,  whose  name  was 
Susannah,  was  setting  the  table  for  supper. 

The  crockery-ware,  said  Guilford,  consisted  of  the 
odds  and  ends  of  many  different  old  sets,  of  as  many 


112  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

different  colors,  originally  brown,  blue,  white — even 
yellow  was  not  wanting.  These  relics  of  antiquity  were 
ostentatiously  set  up,  each  piece  separately,  on  its  edge, 
on  the  shelves  of  a  red  cupboard.  It  seems  that  above 
everything  in  the  house,  except  her  feather  bed,  Mrs. 
Jumps  valued  her  "  cheena"  as  she  denominated  this 
rubbish  of  broken  wares  ;  and  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that 
people  always  bother  themselves  and  fret  away  their 
lives  on  what  they  foolishly  fancy  gives  them  the  most 
happiness.  So  it  was  with  the  dame,  as,  with  a  tremb 
ling  care,  Suz  handed  down  the  plates,  cups,  and  saucers 
for  the  table,  her  mother  fumed  and  scolded  at  her,  at 
every  turn,  lest  she  should  break  the  cheena. 

Before  the  table  was  set,  Suz  had  quite  fully  enlisted, 
though  unknowingly,  the  sympathy  of  Guilford.  This 
sympathy  was  still  further  excited  when  all  drew  up  to 
the  table ;  for  when  Mrs.  Jumps  came  to  pour  tea  from 
a  black  tea-pot  with  a  cover  that  would  be  ever  coming 
off,  and  when  Mrs.  Jumps  deposited  sugar  in  the  cups, 
she  put  the  least  in  Susannah's — poor  Suz  was  the  only 
one  at  the  table  who  cared  for  sugar  at  all.  But  Guil 
ford  managed  so  as  to  give  the  little  pouting  girl  his  own 
cup.  This  won  her  over  to  him ;  so  that  after  supper, 
and  she  had  helped  her  mother  to  clear  away  the  dishes, 
and  received  the  same  amount  of  abuse  as  before  supper, 
on  account  of  the  cheena,  she  got  the  two  brothers  to 
gether,  and  all  three  of  the  farmer's  children  settled 
around  Guilford  very  sociably  for  the  evening,  in  the 
light  of  the  fire,  candles  being  reckoned  an  extrava- 


A     GLIMPSE     OF     SQUATTER     LIFE.  113 

gance.  It  may  be  needless  to  say  what  everybody 
knows — that  all  town  boys  are  regarded  by  their  coun 
try  cousins  as  a  sort  of  superior  race.  This  inly  acknow 
ledged  superiority,  however,  the  country  lads  are  ever 
ready  to  dispute.  To  Guilford's  knowledge,  on  the 
occasion  before  us,  these  farmer  lads  were  soon  ready  to 
defer,  for  the  purpose  of  more  fully  extracting  informa 
tion  on  sundry  matters  in  which  they  stood  in  igno 
rance. 

Accordingly  Guilford  interested  them  deeply  in  his 
accounts  of  caravans,  circuses,  militia-trainings,  fire 
engines,  skates,  schools,  kites,  tops,  jewsharps,  and  mar 
bles.  They  were  disappointed,  however,  to  find  he 
knew  so  little  about  ginger-bread,  a  goodly  array  of 
which,  in  bird-like,  beast-like,  man-like,  and  woman 
like  forms,  they  had  once  seen  in  a  shop  window.  There 
had  been  a  lurking  disposition  at  first,  on  the  part  of 
the  young  Jumpses,  to  humble  my  brother  next  day — 
so  Susannah  afterwards  revealed ; — but  his  frankness, 
and  the  satisfactory  information  he  gave,  on  the  whole, 
changed  their  intentions  ;  and  far  from  desiring  now  to 
expose  his  ignorance  of  the  various  secrets  of  wood 
craft,  they  resolved  to  aid  him  all  in  their  power  to  learn 
farming.  As  for  Suz,  she  was  perfectly  charmed,  as 
she  told  me  long  afterwards,  with  his  gentleness  and 
superior  understanding.  To  her,  Guilford  was  of  a  new 
order  of  being,  and  at  once  she  began  to  "  slick  up,"  as 
she  said. 

Then  bed-time  came.    Guilford  had  observed  but  one 


SUOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

bed,  and  wondered  whether  Jumps  and  his  wife  and 
family  and  he  were  all  to  sleep  in  it.  But  Mrs.  Jumps 
soon  solved  that  problem,  by  drawing  from  beneath  the 
bedstead  a  truckle  bed  large  enough  to  hold  the  three 
boys ;  and  a  couch  was  made  for  Susannah  on  a  long 
blue  chest — which,  by  the  way,  had  probably  held  their 
worldly  goods  and  chattels  when  tliey  emigrated  from 
"Vermont. 

Mr.  Jumps  being  the  last  to  retire,  blew  out  the  light, 
that  is  to  say,  covered  up  the  fire,  leaving  the  hearth  in 
sole  possession  of  a  speckled  cat,  and  a  pan  of  buck 
wheat  batter,  placed  there  to  "  rise"  for  breakfast.  But 
no  sooner  did  silence  prevail  in  the  loghouse,  than  Guil- 
ford  heard  a  long  dismal  howl,  that  arose  from  the 
\voods  in  the  midst  of  which  they  lay.  Soon  came 
another,  longer,  and  mingled  with  fellow-howls,  each 
one  seeming  to  draw  iiigher  and  nigher  to  the  door,  till 
at  length  it  seemed  to  be  besieged  with  a  roar  of  dismal 
howlings. 

Guilford  drew  the  coverlid  over  his  head  ;  but  his 
bed-fellows  only  laughed  at  his  fears.  Ashamed  of 
betraying  himself  in  such  wise  to  these  country  bump 
kins,  he  uncovered  his  head.  A  perfect  blast  of  roars 
and  threats,  mingled  with  whines  and  screeches  of  dis 
appointed  yet  greedy  rage  saluted  his  ears. 

"  What  is  it?"  demanded  he  in  a  whisper. 

"Nothing  but  wolves.     Go  to  sleep." 

"  How  do  you  like  country  music,  boy  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jumps,  with  a  coarse  laugh. 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  SQUATTER  LIFE.     115 

Mr.  Jumps  interposed  now,  and  soothed  the  alarm  of 
Guilford  by  telling  him  that  the  animals  were  of  a  small, 
harmless  sort,  and  though  they  had  howled,  apparently, 
at  the  door  every  night  since  he  had  squatted  there,  yet 
on  getting  up  to  drive  them  away  he  never  found  them 
anywhere  near,  so  that  now  the  family  took  no  notice 
of  them. 

At  daybreak  the  household  was  astir.  Guilford  arose 
with  his  bedfellows,  and  Mr.  Jumps  set  him  at  once  to 
work.  He  was  dispatched  with  Tobias,  or  Toby,  as 
they  called  the  younger  lad,  after  the  cows.  They 
were  soon  found,  and  easily  driven  home;  but  Guilford 
returned  with  his  feet  and  legs  wet  to  the  knees  in  the 
heavy  dew.  Then  he  assisted  Joram  at  chopping  wood 
for  the  house,  so  that  breakfast-time  found  him  already 
fatigued.  Even  Susannah  laughed  a  little  at  his  pale 
looks,  but  soon  checked  herself,  for  fear  of  breaking  a 
piece  of  the  yellow  cheena  she  was  taking  from  its 
throne  on  the  red  cupboard.  My  brother  was  not  at  all 
discouraged ;  he  had  a  stout  heart,  and  breakfast 
refreshed  him.  After  the  morning  meal,  all  went  to  a 
small  clearing  not  far  from  the  house — not  more  than 
forty  acres  of  the  Jumps  estate  was  as  yet  under  culti 
vation.  The  work  before  them  now  was  f altering,  as 
the  squatters  called  it,  or  clearing  the  land  of  felled 
trees  or  brushwood.  Serviceable  logs  were  drawn  off, 
and  that  which  was  left-they  gathered  into  great  heaps, 
and  set  on  fire.  Jumps  and  Joram  busied  themselves 
with  the  logs,  and  made  the  woods  ring  again  with  the 


116  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

blows  of  their  axes,  and  the  sound  of  their  voices  as 
they  shouted  over  the  oxen. 

When  dinner-time  came,  Dame  Jumps  appeared  iri 
the  angel  avocation  of  blowing  a  trumpet — that  is  to 
say  sounding  a  long  tin  horn.  She  showed  herself  at 
the  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  with  the  instrument  applied 
to  her  mouth  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  arm  she 
held  akimbo  at  her  side  to  assist  in  the  mighty  effort, 
she  brayed  forth  a  Jericho-shaking  blast.  There  was  no 
resisting  this  call,  it  said  in  Mrs.  Jumps's  most  decided 
manner : 

"  Dinner's  ready,  and  waits  for  no  man." 

Guilford  was  hungry  and  ate  heartily.  He  deserved 
some  reward  for  his  plight.  His  hands  were  scratched, 
his  face  blackened,  and  his  eyes  filled  up  with  cinders. 
Suz  expressed  her  sympathy  by  bringing  a  tin  wash-basin, 
and  water — none  of  the  cleanest — from  a  spring  near  by 
the  house,  distilling  through  the  black  vegetable  mould 
into  a  barrel  which  was  half  alive  with  insects,  while 
occasionally,  a  lingering  frog  who  had  come  up  to  sun 
his  body  out  of  the  torpor  of  an  October  day,  plumped 
himself  down  with  a  splash  as  you  approached. 

After  dinner  the  party  betook  themselves  to  the  clear 
ing  again,  where  they  worked  away  till  near  nightfall, 
when  Toby  and  Guilford  were  again  dispatched  for  the 
cows  ;  no  trifling  errand,  as  the  animals  wandered  far 
during  the  day — water  in  the  -\voods  being  plenty — and 
the  boys  were  both  fatigued.  • 

And  the  evenings,  how  different  they  at  Green  Run 


A      GLIMPSE      OF      SQUATTER      LIFE.  117 

from  our  sweet,  quiet,  yet  lively  evenings  in  the  library 
at  home !  The  good  humor  and  refinement  of  my 
mother,  the  high-toned,  soft  spoken  morality  of  Maud, 
the  incessant  raillery  of  Mabel ;  these  were  exchanged 
for  the  blunt  good  sense  of  Mr.  Jumps,  the  trumpet 
clangor  of  Mrs.  Jumps,  and  the  vacant  wonderment  of 
the  young  Jumpses. 

A  fortnight  or  more  the  male  inhabitants  of  the  cabin 
•were  engaged  in  the  clearing,  during  which  time  the 
fatigues  were  too  great  to  admit  of  much  conversation  at 
night.  On  some  very  pleasant  evenings,  however,  the 
fascinating  Indian  summer  atmosphere  would  tempt 
them  to  sit  out  in  front  of  the  door,  one  on  a  bench, 
another  on  the  stump  of  a  log,  and  while  the  evening 
came  on,  soothed  into  quiet  by  the  chirrup  of  the  cricket, 
and  the  monotonous  drone  of  the  tree  toad,  and  lit  up  by 
the  fire-flies  in  the  bush,  Jumps  would  hush  the  ever 
prevailing  complaints  of  his  wife,  and  the  stupid  ques 
tionings  of  his  sons,  and  moralize  learnedly  over  his  pipe 
to  the  more  intelligent  Guilford. 

"  If  I  weren't  a  farmer,  I  never  would  be  one;  no,  its 
the  last  calling  on  airth  for  a  man  in  this  country. 
Now  here's  my  boys  and  that  gal,  what  do  they  know  ? 
hardly  enough  to  come  in  when  it  rains.  Now,  let  me 
advise  you  to  adopt  a  course." 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Guilford,  "  what  course  would  you 
adopt,  Mr.  Jumps?" 

"  Wall,  every  man  that  gits  tired  doin  anything  else, 
or  breaks  down  in  life,  always  thinks  he  can  make  a 


118        SHOEPAC  KECOL  LECTIONS. 

farmer  of  himself,  just  as  easy  as  rollin  off  a  log,  but  it 
ain't  so  tarnal  easy.  A  man  ought  to  have  a  turn  for  it, 
with  a  constitution  like  a  horse.  He  must  work  like  a 
dog,  and  be  weather-wise  as  the  Prophet  Elijah.  And 
that  ain't  all  nuther — he  must  adopt  a  course." 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Guilford — -who  knew  already  that  "  to 
adopt  a  course,"  was  the  Jumps  philosophy — his  panacea 
for  every  ill.  Jumps  rarely  condescends  to  explain 
himself  after  uttering  this  indisputable  dogma.  And  so 
now,  he  arose,  entered  the  house  to  rekindle  his  pipe, 
and  reappeared  with  a  live  coal,  which  he  shifted  rapid 
ly  from  his  right  hand  to  his  left,  and  as  swiftly  from 
his  left  hand  to  his  right,  vainly  endeavoring  to  plant  it 
in  the  bowl.  The  refractory  coal  dropped  on  the  floor. 
Jumps  took  the  tongs  to  it. 

"  Yes !"  resumed  the  smoking  philosopher,  "  a  man 
may  think  he  knows  all  about  farming  and  get  his  fingers 
burnt  after  all.  Now  if  it  weren't  for  fear  of  going 
through  the  woods  like  an  over  particular  gal,  and  taking 
up  with  a  crooked  stick  after  all,  I'd  change  my" — 

At  this  moment  Joram  broke  in. 

•"  Dad,  don't  you  think  I'd  make  a  smart  minister  of 
the  gospel  ?" 

Mr.  Jumps,  senior,  did  not  reply.  He  rose  up  hastily, 
knocked  the  ashes  from  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  on  the  nail 
of  his  thumb,  went  in  the  cabin,  covered  up  the  fire,  and 
— went  to  bed. 

"  Every  fool  thinks  he  can  be  a  preacher,  too,"  quoth 
Guilford  to  himself. 


A     GLIMPSE      OF      S  Q  TJ  A  T  T  K  K     LIFE.  119 

Guilford  was  not  too  young  to  perceive  some  of  the 
hopeful  peculiarities  of  thought  and  feeling  among  the 
squatters. 

First,  they  were  of  the  opinion  that  their  lot  in  life 
was  a  little  the  hardest  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Second,  to  vex  the  patient  souls  of  this  primitive 
people,  there  must  always  needs  be  something  wrong  in 
the  daily  course  of  events — peculiarly  theirs  to  suffer — 
the  world  around  them  of  course  exempt,  as  everybody 
else's  world  always  is,  and  always  was,  of  a  coulvur  de 
rose. 

The  cow  was  always  dry;  the  ox  always  wanted 
shoeing;  an  utensil. was  always  broke,  or  a  neighbor 
had  borrowed  it  just  when  it  was  wanted ;  the  weather 
never  suited  the  crops,  and  the  crops  neither  suited  the 
weather  nor  came  up  to  their  expectations  ;  there  never 
was  time  to  do  what  was  required  to  be  done  now  / 
Mrs.  Jumps  thought  she  worked  herself  to  death,  and 
had  no  comforts ;  Susannah  was  always  out  of  shoes, 
and  yet  would  wear  them,  though  they  cost  a  fortune ; 
the  boys  wanted  jack-knives,  jewsharps,  new  caps,  and 
school-books — they  never  could  be  prevailed"  upon  to 
study  when  they  got  them.  In  short,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jumps  had  left  the  pleasantest  home,  the  dearest  friends, 
the  most  lucrative  business,  the  best  schools,  the  grayest 
parson,  and  the  greenest  hills,  at  home  in  good  old  Vair- 
mount,  to  come  to  Michigan.,  where  they  had  no  neigh 
bors,  no  parson,  no  hills,  and  the  children  were  growing 
up  without  education,  they  were  all  working  themselves 


120  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  death,  and,  after  all,  didn't  seem  to  get  on.  With 
reference  to  the  last  complaint,  we  may  as  well  antici 
pate  a  few  years,  and  state,  that  notwithstanding  this 
melancholy  list  of  grievances,  the  Jumpses  continued  to 
exist,  nay,  to  thrive,  from  year  to  year,  till,  as  we  shall 
see,  in  due  time,  they  had  the  best  farm  in  the  county, 
and  the  Jumpses  became  one  of  the  "  first  families." 

Guilford  observed  this  very  satisfactory  account, 
which  it  gave  them  such  evident  delight  to  draw,  and 
thought  that  as  it  is  only  necessary  to  see  an  evil  in 
order  to  avoid  falling  into  it  ourselves,  he  himself  would 
do  better  ;  therefore,  he  continued  to  hold  on  steadily  to 
his  course. 

But  Mr.  Jumps  seemed  to  take  a  peculiar  pleasure  in 
making  Guilford  March  work. 

"  You  have  adopted  a  course,  my  little  fellow,"  he 
would  say,  "  and  you  must  stick  to  it  through  thick  and 
thin." 

Accordingly,  there  was  little  peace  or  rest  for  the 
poor  boy,  until  night  came.  He  began  to  fancy  himself 
growing  dull,  like  Joram  and  Toby.  The  thought  hor 
rified  him ;  yet  all  the  boys  he  saw  were  of  the  same 
species.  "  All  work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a  dull 
boy,"  sure  enough,  thought  he. 

There  were  a  hundred  people  in  the  vicinity — two- 
thirds  of  them  were  down  writh  ague  or  bilious  fever. 

The  nearest  neighbors  to  Farmer  Jumps  were  the 
O'Gradys.  They  lived  a  mile  down  the  creek  or  run, 
whose  greenish,  vegetable  color,  gave  name  to  this 


A     GLIMPSE      OF     SQUATTER     LIFE.  121 

neighborhood.  They  were  Irish  ;  had  been  in  better 
circumstances,  they  said,  as  all  old  country  people,  I 
believe,  do  say.  Whether  they  descended  from  the  King 
O'Grady  I  never  have  learned,  but  I  dare  say  they  did. 

At  any  rate,  their  descent  was  very  great,  as  both 
husband  and  wife  got  drunk,  and  frightened  Guilford 
more  than  once  with  their  dreadful  oaths  and  beastly 
conduct. 

It  was  some  time  in  December  that  an  incident  hap 
pened  in  the  O'Grady  family,  which,  added  to  what  had 
already  been  preying  upon  the  sensitive  youth's  feelings, 
was  the  means  of  his  leaving  the  detestable  precincts  of 
Green  Hun.* 

*  The  incident  alluded  to  is  a  fact  that  came  to  the  personal  know 
ledge  of  the  writer,  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  he  made,  in  his  boyhood) 
to  the  farm  of  an  uncle  in  a  new  country. 

An  Irishwoman  being  taken  with  the  pains  of  childbirth,  this  writer 
was  mounted  on  the  only  horse  in  the  neighborhood,  and  dispatched  to 
the  nearest  village,  seven  miles  distant,  after  a  doctor.  On  my  return, 
the  affair  was  over,  and  I  overheard  my  uncle  and  aunt  talking  about  it 
in  the  night  after  all  the  house  had  gone  to  rest. 

It  seems  that  the  child  survived  its  birth  but  a  few  moments.  The 
husband  arose  from  the  bed,  where  he  had  been  lying  in  a  maudlin 
Btates  seized  the  infant  from  one  of  the  good  squatter  women  attending, 
and  in  the  midst  of  profane  execrations  flung  at  the  head  of  his  wife,  he 
took  water,  baptized  the  child  with  his  sacrilegious  hand,  and  tossed  it 
over  the  back  log  into  the  burning  fire. 

Of  course  the  author  does  not  pretend  to  infer,  that  such  evil  prac 
tices  are  common  among  the  pioneers  of  the  West.  Yet  it  were  vain 
to  deny,  that  brute  force,  and  independence  from  the  restraints  of  civili 
zation,  develop  themselves  under  revolting  forms  here  and  there — espe 
cially  among  the  semi-barbarous  elements  introduced  from  foreign  shores. 

6 


122  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  terrible  event  haunted  his  imagination  day  and 
night,  and  gave  a  horrible  significance  to  the  howling 
of  the  wolves. 

He  took  sudden  flight  one  morning  when  he  had  been 
sent  after  the  cows,  without  Tobias,  wrho  had  cut  his 
foot.  He  left  his  best  suit  of  clothes  behind  him,  with 
the  secret  of  his  flight,  in  Susannah's  keeping,  and 
appeared  before  us  in  the  manner  already  related. 

My  mother's  plan  for  curing  Guilford  of  a  desire  for 
farm-life  had  succeeded — aided  as  it  was  by  fortuitous 
circumstances,  of  which  the  good  lady  never  had 
dreamed. 

"  My  son,  you  will  go  to  school  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  mother,  as  soon  as  I  have  wood 
enough  chopped  to  last  Bowes  all  day." 


THE     RIVALS.  123 


CHAPTER  XHL 

THE   RIVALS. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing 

To  love  as  I  love  thee,  to  feel  the  world — 
The  bright,  the  beautiful,  joy-giving  world — 

A  blank  without  thee. 

L.  E.  L. 

MRS.  MARCH  was  an.  ambitions  little  woman — at  least 
for  her  children.  To  educate  them  for  the  well-doing  of 
their  parts  in  life,  to  fit  them  likewise  for  a  better  world, 
and  to  render  them  not  only  useful  but  agreeable  mem 
bers  of  society,  were  grand  objects  ever  before  her. 
No  straight-lace  philosopher  was  she.  The  tree  of  life 
was  not  to  be  trimmed  into  an  Egyptian  pyramid  at  her 
hands,  but  its  boughs  were  to  be  adorned  with  things 
pleasant  to  behold  and  sweet  to  the  taste.  In  a  word, 
Mrs.  March's  maxims  of  morality  constantly  relaxed 
into  the  means  of  present  and  prospective  happiness. 
In  another  word,  with  all  her  notions  of  right  and  wrong, 
sense  and  nonsense,  she  was — or  rather  wished  to  be — 
as  sociable  a  little  lady  as  the  most  sociable  town  the 
northwest  boasted,  might  be  able  to  produce.  • 

There  were  many  fine  old-fashioned  parties  at  Lilac 
Cottage,  which,  by  the  by,  was  not  ill  qualified  for  such 
gatherings.  A  long,  wide  hall,  two  large  parlors,  and 


124  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  library,  furnished  room  enough  for  the  guests  to 
dance  to  their  hearts'  content. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  how  the  houses  were 
furnished  in  those  part  French,  part  Indian,  and  part 
American  times. 

Behold  a  pair  of  huge  elk  antlers  bristling  at  one  end 
of  the  hall,  and  stag  antlers  at  the  other.  See  a  long 
birch  bark  canoe  stretched  along  the  side  walk — possibly 
effigies  of  Indians  sit  there  in  full  trappings,  with  red 
paddles  in  their  hands.  Be  this  last  as  it  may,  walk  into 
the  parlor  and  view  the  portrait  of  a  noble  red  man — 
who  unlike  most  of  us  white  men  had  a  name  of  his  own, 
won  by  manly  deeds.  The  other  ornaments  of  the  room 
may  be  quivers  of  arrows,  light  and  graceful  snowshoea, 
marvellous  moccasins,  painted  feather  headdresses,  and 
porcupine  work. 

The  cost  of  an  entertainment  in  those  unfashionable 
days  did  not  compose,  as  now,  the  chief  item  of  boast.  A 
couple  of  Frenchmen  and  a  negro  for  fiddlers,  set  the 
affair  agoing,  and  people  made  themselves  merry  with 
each  other.  A  haunch  of  venison,  a  couple  of  wild 
turkeys,  Colville  apples,  sandwiches,  and  hickory  nuts, 
cake,  wine  and  brandy,  formed  the  simple  refreshments. 
And  such  smacking  of  honest  lips,  and  such  brimming 
bumpers  to  the  toast,  and  such  polite  toasts  with  graceful 
allusions  to  the  next  wedding,  and  such  gems  of  anecdotes 
and  witty  sallies,  and  pealing  laughter,  in  a  word  such 
merry  men  and  pretty  women  never  got  together  and 
made  themselves  and  each  other  happy  elsewhere  in  the 


THE     RIVALS.  125 

world.  But  then,  such  a  total  absence  of  stiff  bows  and 
grand  funeral  procession  entrees,  tipping  of  white-gloved 
fingers,  conceited  artists,  frothy  authors,  Munchauseu 
travellers,  after-dinner  speech-making  parsons,  painted 
belles,  eye-glass  beaux,  honiton  frippery  and  foreign  air 
foppery — the  absence  of  these  things  so  essential  to  a 
present  time  soiree,  or  reception,  or  at  home  refined 
assemblage,  causes  me  to  draw  back  lest  I  lose  caste  in 
describing  my  dear  old  friends'parties. 

There  were  no  pianos  in  our  city  at  that  time.  It  was 
not  until  several  years  subsequently  that  my  ears  were 
stunned  with  the  Battle  of  Prague,  or  my  sensibility 
blunted  by  school-girl  thumpings  of  Days  of  Absence. 
The  first  piano  created  a  sensation  ;  people  listened  with 
a  mixture  of  curiosity,  wonder,  awe,  and  pleasure ;  you 
might  have  heard  a  pin  drop.  How  happy  are  we  now 
that  those  fine  instruments  are  best  appreciated  when 
silent.  That  is  to  say,  the  crack  performer,  some  corner- 
loving  governess,  or  professional  player,  or  bashful  school- 
damsel,  is  requested  to  play  by  all  the  assembly,  urged 
forward,  pushed  through,  and  when  once  seated  to  her 
melodious. task,  everybody  sets  up  a  tempest-roar  of  talk 
ing,  which  drowns  the  voice  of  your  obliging  performer. 

Behold  one  of  our  pretty  lasses  in  the  antique  city 
called  upon  for  Sweet  Home,  or  other  English  ballad ; 
or  a  twinkling  eyed  French  girl  for  a  merry  song  of 
sunny  France ;  or  a  bluff  Scot  for  John  Anderson  my 
Joe ;  or  an  Irish  gentleman  for  a  humorous  catch,  and 
everybody  for  a  chorus — that  was  a  thing  got  up  to  be 
enjoyed. 


126  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

But  of  all  things  a  French  wedding  was  the  mos'fc 
celebrated  for  downright  enjoyment.  My  eyes  fill  with 
swimming  scenes  of  mirth  as  memory  recalls  one  of 
those  joyous  occasions.  The  real  fountain  of  rejuvena 
tion  was  a  French  wedding.  Here  old  people  bathec 
and  came  out  young  again.  The  oldest  danced  foi 
dear  life,  and  the  gayest  and  lightest  dancer  was  sure 
to  be  some  fat  and  heavy  old  gentleman,  with  a  no  less 
elderly  and  sizable  partner.  They  bowed  and  courtesied 
with  a  grace  and  a  joy,  they  tip-toed  it  up  and  down, 
round  and  about,  pirouetted  and  coquetted,  balanced  and 
swung,  cheated  and  chased,  with  a  vivacity  that  brought 
hoary  old  Time  himself  into  the  set  as  youthful  and 
happy  as  the  rest  of  them.  Such  innocent,  hearty,  and 
delightful  frolics  give  your  bridal  couple  a  fair  start  in 
life,  though  I  have  little  doubt  they  might  startle  the 
soft  and  gentle  votaries  of  fashion  from  many  an  accus 
tomed  nap  through  a  cotillion.  But  we  have  no  fault  to 
find.  Let  each  enjoy  himself  in  his  own  way,  the  hearty 
heartily — the  feeble  feebly. 

Those  were  dangerous  times  for  old  bachelors,  though 
the  less  said  of  such  unhappy  souls  the  better.  Never 
theless  at  the  period  to  which  in  the  course  of  our 
history  we  last  arrived,  a  new  admirer  of  Miss  Maud's 
appeared  on  the  field,  a  veritable,  ancient  bachelor,  one 
of  the  most  glorious  specimens  of  that  worthy  class. 

Major  Fontenoy  was  an  officer  of  our  army  in  the  late 
war.  He  had  been  stationed  in  different  parts  of  the 
country,  but  having  seen  Detroit — he  was  serving  in  the 
unfortunate  Hull  expedition — had  fallen  in  love  with 


THE     RIVALS.  127 

her.  Ten  years  after  the  war  closed  he  resigned  his 
commission  and  came  to  be  one  of  her  children.  The 
major  was  fond  of  young  people.  He  had  long  known 
Miss  Maud,  but  as  she  always  avoided  notice,  he  never 
found  it  worth  his  while  to  be  struck  with  her  charms 
until  now.  On  this  occasion  he  attended  one  of  our 
little  evening  parties,  and  as  he  entered  the  room,  Maud 
sat  at  a  species  of  dulcimer,  singing  some  sweet  ballad 
of  olden  time.  Her  long  blonde  ringlets  waved  down 
her  shoulders  in  cloud-like  drapery.  But  when  she 
turned,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  music,  the  major  never 
saw  such  eyes  before — in  fact 

"  Then  was  Juno  herself  disguised  as  Diana,  hey  ?" 
he  said. 

You  already  perceive  that  the  major  was  a  man  of 
sentiment.  The  major  was  enchanted  with  the  gentle 
Maud. 

Bear  with  me,  fond  hearted  reader  :  for  I  have  not 
only  lovers  on  my  hands — behold  here  a  rival  to  the 
forlorn  Allen  Magroy.  And  such  a  rival !  Our  pro 
gress  grows  more  perplexing.  How  may  I  please  the 
eye  of  beauty  beaming  down  upon  this  page  ?  Picture 
to  thyself  an  Adonis  worthy  to  compete  with  Allen,  an 
Achilles  entering  the  lists  against  the  youthful  Paris. 
Tall,  straight,  with  flowing  locks,  smooth  face — the 
moustache  movement  not  yet  announced — eyes  of 
majesty,  lips  of  burning  coal. 

Is  that  the  model  lover  ? 

Or  shall  we  shadow  forth  a  reserved  gracious  soul  of 


128  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

goodness  who  never  does  or  says  anything  inconsistent 
witli  classic  repose,  or  at  any  other  time  than  the  right 
moment — no  impulse,  no  carelessness  like  Allen's — all 
strength  tinder  reason,  and  all  passion  under  ice. 

Is  that  thy  'beau  ideal,  beauteous  Clarissa  ? 

Alas  !  the  major  was  gallantry  itself.  He  had  fought 
the  British  to  the  cannon's  mouth  at  Chippewa,  where 
he  lost  a  hand ;  and  in  various  hotly  contested  Indian 
battles  Major  Fontenoy  was  seen  holding  his  snuff-box 
in  the  crook  of  the  handless  arm,  and  taking  snuff 
coolly  while  he  issued  his  orders.  Yet  is  he  no  such 
Adonis,  Achilles,  or  John  Humphreys  as  thou  hast 
fancied. 

The  major,  as  we  see,  was  decrepit  by  the  loss  of  his 
hand,  and  moreover,  the  major  was  slightly  bent  at  the 
shoulders.  Yet  though  no  model,  the  best  of  men  in 
many  respects  was  he,  as  we  shall  prove  in  the  course 
of  this  story.  He  took  great  notice  of  Maud  that 
night.  Thank  the  stars !  Allen  was  not  there,  for  the 
artless  Maud  received  everybody  graciously,  especially 
at  home,  nor  dreamed  of  coqueting.  The  major  was 
odd  and  amusing,  and  like  many  fine  gentlemen  of  that 
day,  he  was  a  very  agreeable  talker,  and  had  something 
to  say  other  than  investments,  road  stocks,  and  opera 
tragedies — performed  behind  the  scenes — patent  leather 
boots,  curling-tongs,  and  cosmetics.  He  could  turn  a 
compliment  so  you  never  knew  it  was  a  compliment,  till 
you  went  to  bed.  He  could  tell  an  anecdote  without 
boring  you  :  he  could  hand  you  a  glass  of  water  with- 


THE     RIVALS.  129 

out  spilling  it  on  jour  dress,  and  I  defy  a  Fifth  Avenue 
beau  to  do  either.  The  poor  major  was  innocent  of 
small  canes,  banditti  hats,  tight  breeches,  the  Jenny 
Lind  entree,  an  article  in  anybody's  magazine,  or  a 
mysterious  intrigue  d* amour  /  and  yet  he  was  the  most 
perfect  gentleman  I  ever  saw.  So  I  fancy  he  will  not 
be  a  favorite  with  the  one  or  two  of  my  city  friends, 
but  for  the  life  of  me  I  cannot  help  it — such  was  the 
backward  state  of  those  times.  With  the  dear  sex,  as 
God,  nature  and  their  excellent  mothers  have  made 
them,  I  feel  sanguine  that  the  major  will  not  be  very 
despicable,  whatever  may  be  his  fortunes  with  the  fair 
Maud. 

On  the  following  morning,  and  on  every  Sunday 
morning  thereafter,  Maud  received  the  most  exquisite 
of  "bouquets.  That  was  no  indelicate  reminder  of  the 
existence  of  Major  Fontenoy.  Moreover,  there  could 
be  no  fine  cameo,  or  other  beautiful  article  of  art- 
jewelry  heard  of,  but  what  it  must  be  sent  to  Maud — 
name  of  the  giver  unknown,  and  no  excuse  to  return 
it :  besides  really  the  major  had  known  us  all  for  years, 
was  considered  as  an  oddity  above  and  beyond  design, 
who  lived  but  for  his  fancies,  in  short,  a  rich  old  bache 
lor,  with  no  wish  but  to  be  on  polite  terms  with  every 
body,  who  would  have  his  little  humors  gratified,  but 
was  considered  too  old,  too  lame,  too  much  of  a  general 
favorite,  to  marry.  And  so  there  was  no  such  thing 
ever  thought  of  as  making  war  upon  him  by  the  un 
necessary  display  of  squeamishness,  as  returning  gifts 
"from  an  unknown  "  giver  would  appear  to  be. 


130  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

That  the  giver  was  known,  and  that  after  the  beam 
of  joy  on  the  sight  of  his  beautiful  presents,  came  a 
shade  of  perplexity  and  doubt  on  the  brow  of  Maud,  is 
not  to  be  denied.  Place  yourself  in  her  shoes,  prudish 
one,  and  reflect  well  ere  you  condemn  her.  The  major 
had  the  touch  of  Midas.  He  never  made  a  purchase 
of  lands  on  military  or  Indian  reserves  when  the  same 
came  into  market,  but  that  it  was  sure  to  be  the  site  of 
some  future  Troy. 

"With  M.  Latrobe  and  the  major  for  frequent  guests, 
our  evenings  stole  pleasantly  away.  My  dear  mother, 
however,  began  to  find  that  her  severe  labors  were 
undermining  her  health.  She  was  advised  to  abandon 
sewing,  and  take  boarders.  The  town  was  growing 
rapidly,  and  alas !  changing  its  features.  The  steam 
boat  experiment  on  the  lakes  had  proved  successful, 
and  emigrants  were  rushing  into  the  State,  some  settling 
down  among  us.  Tall  brick  stores  began  to  rise,  and 
tower  over  their  humble,  droll,  decaying  neighbors  with 
old  fashioned  Yandyke  hats.  Merchants  with  dandi 
fied  clerks,  lawyers  with  their  sharp  practices,  landlords 
with  their  new  devices,  such  as  chamber-bells,  dinner 
gongs,  and  boat-runners,  were  growing  rich  in  our 
midst.  Out  of  so  many  new  comers  it  was  easy  to  fill 
the  cottage  with  pleasant — sometimes  unpleasant — • 
people.  The  library,  however,  continued  to  be  the 
same  sweet  spot  as  before,  sacred  from  lodgers'  intru 
sion.  M.  Latrobe  himself  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
The  major,  out  of  motives  of  sentiment,  did  not  like  to 
become  a  boarder  with  Maud's  mother. 


THE     RIVALS.  131 

Meantime  let  us  not  forget  Allen.  After  dangling 
around  home  listlessly  a  year  or  so  after  the  change 
came  between  his  father  and  Maud,  he  determined  to 
study  law.  This  he  commenced  doing  in  his  indolent 
manner,  with  his  heels  perched  upon  the  stove  in 
winter,  and  on  the  window-sill  in  summer,  and  his 
thoughts  wandering — no  matter  where. 

After  a  year  had  elapsed,  an  event  happened  which 
set  his  blood  in  motion.  His  mother  had  died.  Yes, 
she,  the  dust  hater,  who  had  been  born  with  a  duster 
in  her  hand,  actually  turned  to  dust  herself.  Old  Mr. 
Magroy  became  gruffer  than  ever,  growled  to  the  slip 
shod  servants,  snapped  at  the  one-eyed  housekeeper  on 
all  occasions,  and  so  opposed  was  his  idle  son  to  all  his 
mathematical,  classical,  and  geographical  ideas,  that  he 
lost  all  manner  of  patience  with  him. 

The  scholarly  old  gentleman  himself  fished  in  the 
mazy  streams  of  the  law,  in  order  to  test  the  advance 
of  his  son  in  those  studies.  Of  course  Allen  was  defi 
cient.  His  father's  wrath  doubtless  became  great  in 
proportion  to  the  trouble  self-imposed ;  but  he  kept  it 
smothered  until  an  event  happened  in  another  quarter. 

Sitting  in  the  doorway  of  the  kennel,  with  his  nose 
alert,  he  smelt  out  mischief.  Notwithstanding  his  very 
reasonable  order  to  Allen  with  reference  to  Maud, 
he  saw  that  young  lounger  one  day  crossing  over  the 
avenue  to  accost  the  lady  of  his  love.  He  saw  him 
speak  to  her,  join  her,  walk  by  her  side  towards  home. 
He  saw  that  Maud  hurried  her  footsteps — that  she 


132  SHOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

seemed  to  wish  to  be  left  to  pursue  her  pathway  alone, 
that  she  dropped  her  veil,  and  said  little. 

"The  crafty  little  cheat!"  Mr.  Magroy  exclaimed. 
"  She  thinks  to  impose  on  Archibald  Magroy,  does  she  ? 
I'll  dissemble  her !" 

Allen  was  soon  seen  returning  pensively  towards 
home.  As  he  re-crossed  the  avenue,  and  drew  near  the 
little  plum  orchard,  a  rap  was  heard  on  the  floor  of  his 
father's  office.  The  angry  voice  of  Mr.  Magroy  called 
out: 

"Allen  !  come  hither,  sir  !" 

The  door  closed  upon  the  two.  Mr.  Magroy  was  too 
deeply  agitated  for  many  words.  He  raised  his  cane, 
and  poised  it  over  the  shoulder  of  the  sad  delinquent. 

"Father,  you  must  not — will  not,  strike  me?"  His 
last  words  were  soft  and  imploring. 

"  You  have  disobeyed  orders  sir  !"  shouted  the 
enraged  government  officer.  "Is  this  the  first  time  I 
have  seen  thee  with  that  flaxen-haired  wench?  Nay, 
I'll  have  no  more  of  it.  The  little  pox  of  deception  she 
is !" — continued  the  Greek  exegist. 

"  Stay  father  !     Listen  to  reason,"  said  Allen. 

Mr.  Magroy  paused,  and  brought  the  cane  down  upon 
the  floor. 

"  That  girl  is  goodness,  purity,  truthfulness  itself" — 

The  cane  rose  again. 

"  I'll  send  ye  adrift  o'er  the  four  corners  of  the  globe, 
an'  ye  dare  dispute  with  me !"  shouted  the  geo 
grapher. 


THE     RIVALS.  133 

Allen  was  strong,  and  a  lad  of  twenty.  He  caught 
the  blow  ere  it  reached  its  destination. 

"  Father,  will  you  force  me  to  leave  your  roof?" 

Again  the  rod  rose  high  in  air.  The  blow  descended. 
And  the  boy  went  forth  a  man  ;  even  as  the  boy  David 
was  driven  from  the  presence  of  Saul — a  king !  a  king  ! 

Now  it  was  that  Allen  took  up  Blackstone  with 
earnest  purpose.  The  prospect  of  a  wealthy  inheritance 
fell  from  his  shoulders  as  a  camel's  load.  The  desert 
before  him,  and  he  free  !  It  was  necessary,  however,  to 
earn  his  way.  He  hung  out  a  modest  little  sign,  with 
his  name  in  white  letters,  and  "  copyist"  below — for 
there  was  not  sufficient  writing  of  the  legal  sort  to  pay 
for  his  office  hire,  wood,  lights,  and  daily  maintenance. 
He  advertised  that  he  would  write  letters  for  the 
unlearned.  Many  a  letter  he  wrote  for  nothing.  Yet 
few  went  by  his  door  bearing  fruit,  that  he  did  not  reap 
a  gleaning — joyfully  given  by  the  happy  poor  ;  for  the 
poor  are  grateful.  Their  confidence  in  Allen  was 
unbounded.  His  popularity  came  on  in  its  own  good 
time  ;  for  the  fruit  of  earnest  endeavors  and  good  deeds 
is  general  good-will.  Allen  could  turn  a  ready  hand  to 
anything.  Gladly  would  he  take  the  place  of  sick  or 
absent  tradesman's  clerk,  an  event  profitable  to  the  good 
shopman,  as  it  was  always  marked  by  notable  acces 
sions  of  customers.  Was  there  a  prompt  hand,  a  saga 
cious  mind,  an  honest  heart  needed  in  an  emergency, 
too  difficult  for  clerk,  and  not  great  enough  for  Lawyer 
Floury  or  Counsellor  O'Mar ,  Allen  was  your  man. 


184  8HOBPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

In  short,  the  young  scrivener  was  ready  to  do  anything, 
at  a  moment's  warning,  even  down  to  driving  a  French 
cart,  or  writing  a  negro  love-letter.  Thus  brought  in 
contact  with  the  actualities  of  life,  thus  kept  on  the 
alert,  his  intellect  sharpened,  and  his  moral  sensibilities 
were  quickened.  His  sympathies  every  day  found  new 
channels.  His  successes  buoyed  him  above  the  fre 
quent  pinchings  of  want,  and  gave  him  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  better  land  which  lies  beyond  the 
desert  and  the  river.  He  saw  life  in  new  aspects.  He 
regarded  himself,  his  father,  Maud,  and  the  world, 
in  a  changed  position. 

Poor  Maud  !  what  was  she  to  do  ?  Her  lover  was  his 
own  master.  With  zeal  he  re-plead  his  cause,  and 
pointed  confidently  to  the  future.  Maud  listened  with 
a  beating  heart.  Hope,  long  a  stranger,  or,  with  the 
young  outcast  a  pilgrim,  threw  away  his  staff,  joyfully 
plunged  into  the  glowing  bath-chambers  of  green 
Damascus,  and  came  out  full  of  aerial  visions. 

Yet  the  father's  stern  forbidding  hung  over  the  trans 
ported  lovers  like  a  cloud,  and,  in  Maud's  tender  soul, 
grew  from  a  speck  to  the  size  of  a  man's  hand,  and  from 
that,  covered  the  sky.  She  sought  counsel  from  her 
mother. 

Mrs.  March  spake  little,  though  kindly,  to  her. 

"  I  would  not  influence  you,  my  daughter,  in  so  deli 
cate,  yet  important  a  conjuncture.  I  would  rather 
leave  you  free  to  the  guidance  of  your  own  conscience 
and  good  sense." 


THE     RIVALS.  135 

The  word  "  conscience "  pointed  Maud  to  the  diffi 
cult,  narrow  way,  the  straight  road.  She  went  forth 
from  her  morning  prayers,  next  day,  sadder,  yet  calmer. 

Allen  Magroy  met  her  as  usual  on  the  path  to 
school. 

The  accustomed  greetings  were  exchanged — perhaps, 
on  the  side  of  Maud,  with  even  more  than  the  accus 
tomed  warmth.  There  was  a  sorrowful  ardor  in  her 

• 

looks,  whenever  she  turned  them  upon  the  proud- 
bearing  young  gallant  at  her  side.  Even  suffering  had 
not  deprived  Allen  of  his  dashing  ease  of  manner  ;  and 
fine  address  is  not  lost  on  woman — 'tis  no  little  of  the 
divinity  she  attributes  to  her  hero.  Allen  wore  his 
hair  long,  as  was  the  manner  of  the  day ;  his  black 
locks  were  worthy  a  knight  of  romance  ;  he  had,  more 
over,  made  a  vow — silly  fellow ! — on  leaving  the  pater 
nal  mansion,  with  the  world  before  him,  not  to  shear 
his  hair  until  his  father,  proud  of  his  success,  should 
forgive  him.  That  was  a  rash,  boyish  vow  ;  and  in  the 
clearer  light  of  a  better  reason,  his  long  hair  hung 
around  him,  a  real  covering  of  humility.  As  the  two 
walked  over  the  green  grass  now,  a  stranger  might 
point  to  them  and  exclaim — 

"  There  go  the  pride  and  beauty  of  the  village  ?" 
Strangers  would  call  our  little  city  a  village. 
Yet  Maud,  in  her  untrained  ringlets,  simple  French 
straw  hat,  and    plain    attire,  and  Allen,  in  his  poor 
apparel,  might  almost  pass  for  rustics,  were  it  not  for 
their  graceful,  elastic  movements.     My  pen !  what  hast 


136  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

thou  done  ?  Thy  hero  and  heroine  are  atrociously, 
unpardonably  stainless ! 

'Tis  time,  at  length,  for  Maud  to  speak,  for  the  quick 
eye  of  love  has  detected  strangeness  in  her  look  and 
manner,  and  argued  ill — as  love  always  does,  when  not 
inflated  by  vanity. 

"  Allen,  had  I  any  lot  or  portion  in  the  anger  of  your 
father?" 

"*Why,  Maud !  you  have  asked  me  almost  as  much, 
many  times." 

"  JN"OW  I  must  know,  Allen." 

The  truthful  fellow  could  not — though  how  fain  he 
would ! — deny  it. 

"  So  I  feared,  so  I  thought.  You  will  understand  me, 
dear  Allen ;  but  I  owe  you  something,  and  myself 
something — painful,  oh !  how  painful ;  yet  it  must  be 
heeded." 

"  My  timid  bird,"  replied  Allen,  "  I  know  what  you 
would  say  ;  yet  listen :  I  feel  myself  my  own  master. 
I  am  my  own  master!"  he  added  with  energy,  "in 
sight  of  heaven  and  earth !  and  if  with  you,  my  old,  my 
only  appreciating  heart,  I  choose  to  go,  it  is  my 
right." 

"  But  what  is  my  duty  ?"  asked  Maud. 

"You  are  not  responsible — it  is  my  own  act,"  "he 
quickly  rejoined. 

"  Yet,  liave  I  my  duty  to  perform,"  said  she,  "  to 
myself,  to  my  mother,  to  you,  dear  Allen?"  and 
she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  but  for  a  moment; 


THE     RIVALS.  137 

"  nay,  even  to  your  father,  however  violent  and  unrea 
sonable  he  may  be  ?  I  must  not  keep  enmity  between 
him  and  you." 

Allen's  impatience  was  irrepressible. 

Maud  continued,  with  calmness,  not  unbroken  by 
tearful  emotion. 

"  You  have  been  rudely  thrown  upon  yourself.  It 
will,  it  must  be,  the  making  of  you.  Your  talents,  and 
all  your  natural  goodness  of  heart,  must  soon  appear. 
To  continue  your  intimacy  with  me,  under  the  ban  of 
your  father's  displeasure,  will  lower  you  in  your  own 
respect,  and  impede  your  progress  upward  all  through 
life. 

"  You  see,  Allen,"  she  said,  with  a  sweet,  soft,  half- 
sad,  smile,  "  what  great  things  I  hope  for  my  dearest 
friend." 

"  Just  as  you  deliberately  abandon  him,"  said  he, 
with  bitterness. 

Maud  trembled  at  all  she  had  said ;  and  perhaps,  too, 
the  idea  of  actually  giving  him  up,  or  rather  thus  sud 
denly  crushing  the  idol  which  had  lain  on  her  heart's 
altar  so  long,  and  now  lay  at  her  feet,  did  not  diminish 
her  self-distrust.  Yet  her  sense  of  duty  was  not 
unshaken,  and  her  resolution  only  in  danger  for  a 
moment.  She  knew  not  what  more  to  say. 

"Well,"  said  Allen,  "I  will  not  persecute  you.  I 
will— go." 

Maud  looked  up  at  him  half-reproachfully,  half-sur 
prised. 


138  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

A  gleain  of  honest  pride,  a  whole  beam  of  new  light 
broke  from  his  face. 

"  I  think  I  begin  to  see  both  you  and  myself  in  a 
new  sense,  dear  Maud;  indeed,  I  have  thought  of  it 
before." 

The  tears  began  to  glisten  through  his  troubled  coun 
tenance,  even  as  the  stars  break  through  the  dark 
clouds. 

"  But  you  must  not  cast  me  from  you  at  once.  Help 
me  to  become  the — the — angel  that  you  are — no,  I 
mean  help  me  to  see  things  more  clearly,  as  you  do, 
and"- 

"  You  must  look  to  God  for  guidance,"  said  she,  in  a 
tremulous  voice.  "  There  is  sufficient  spirit  of  right  in 
every  heart,  I  believe  Allen,  to  guide  us,  if  we  will  only 
place  it  in  His  hands." 

This  was  a  subject  a  little  beyond  Allen  Magroy. 
For  a  moment  his  brow  grew  dark  again.  He  reviewed 
his  career  hastily,  though  religiously,  and  even  the  light 
of  an  honest,  noble  nature  did  not  serve  to  cleave  through 
its  gloom.  Then  he  looked  forward,  hope,  love,  duty, 
even  prospective  greatness,  dawned  upon  him  as  through 
a  glass  darkly. 

Maud  watched  his  fine  features,  and  with  pleasure  saw 
the  cloud  clear  away. 

"I  will  leave  you_Maud,  now,  my,  ray" — 

"  Sister,"  whispered  Maud. 

"  Sister,"  echoed  the  young  man.  "  Only  let  there  be 
no  quarrel  between  thee  and  me." 


THE     RIVALS.  139 

"  Oil  no !  never,"ej actuated  Maud,  "  you  know  me  to 
well  for  that." 

"  Good-bye,  Maud !" 

"Good-bye,  Allen!" 

He  was  gone  ! 

The  girl  dropped  her  veil  over  her  troubled  face  to 
hide  the  tears  that  she  did  not  care  to  restrain.  To  go 
into  the  school-room  that  morning  was  impossible.  She 
turned  her  steps  homeward.  And  soon  the  mother, 
whose  teachings  and  whose  prayers  had  been  the  divine 
medium  of  illuminating  the  arches  of  that  little  temple 
of  the  living  God,  thanked  Him  that  her  daughter  had 
withstood  in  the  hour  of  temptation. 


14:0  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

FATHER   AND   SON. 

Rightly  to  be  great 

la  not  to  stir  without  great  argument ; 
But  greatly  to  find  quarrel  In  a  straw, 

When  honor's  at  the  stake. 

HAMLET. 

GREAT  and  manifest  was  the  tribulation  and  wrath  of 
Mr.  Archibald  Magroy  on  the  departure  of  his  son  and 
heir  from  the  family  mansion.  His  first  measure  was  to 
change  his  will.  That  Allen  was  cut  off  with  a  shilling 
no  one  doubted.  But  to  whom  Mr.  Magroy's  large  estates 
were  to  fall,  no  one  besides  himself  and  his  lawyer,  Coun 
sellor  O'Mar,  was  presumed  to  know.  The  sagacious 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  Polyphemia  Fidgets  was  not  without 
her  shrewd  conjectures,  and  the  note-worthy  change  in 
the  domestic  administration  of  the  establishment,  as  well 
as  in  the  personal  attire  of  the  tall,  prim  dame,  gave  rise 
to  gossip — but  what  right  have  people  to  their  gossip  ? 

Old  Growl  grew  more  sullen,  more  watchful,  more 
wrathful.  His  descent  on  schools  became,  though  few 
and  far  between,  as  unlike  angels'  visits  as  possible  to 
conceive.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  propose  to  the  trustees 
that  Greek  should  be  taught  by  means  of  grammars 


FATHER     AND      SON.  141 

written  in  Latin,  and  vice  versa.  The  boys  were  amazed 
and  frightened.  Dr.  Oliphant  had  too  much  good 
sense. 

"  For,"  quoth  he,  "  learning  language  is  like  visiting 
a  foreign  country.  "Wherefore,  most  learned  doctor  of 
the  laws — of  whom  by  the  way,  Dr.  Olihpant  strangely 
stood  in  no  manner  of  fear — it  is  my  humble  opinion 
that  to  think  in  one  language,  and  to  translate  your 
thoughts  into  a  second,  in  order  to  learn  the  mysteries 
of  a  third,  would  be  like  travelling  over  Europe  with 
the  map  of  Africa  in  your  hand,  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  the  peculiarities  of  Asia  !" 

Whereupon  Mr.  Magroy  retired  to  the  shades  of  the 
kennel,  and  the  same  day  appeared  a  placard  at  the 
gate  of  the  plum  orchard. 

ARCHIBALD  MAGROY,   L.  L.  D. 

WILL  TAKE  A  FEW  WELL  BEHAVED   YOUTHS  TO  INSTRUCT  IN  GREEK 
AND   LATIN. 

TERMS   GRATIS. 

Benevolent  gentleman !  a  philanthropic  hobby  to 
ride  !  Dash  the  rowels  of  thy  spurs  deep  into  the  flanks 
of  thy  Pegasus,  or  the  world  will  escape  thee — with 
all  its  woeful  ignorance  ! 

Strange  ingratitude !  no  aspiring  youths  were  known 
to  present  themselves  at  this  free  and  newly  opened 
fountain  of  classic  literature.  Lads  preferred  the  odd 
whiskered  Dr.  Oliphant. 


142  SHOEPAC     KECOLLECTIONS. 

Astonished  at  the  blindness  and  folly  of  the  juvenile 
world,  the  bread  which  Mr.  Magroy  had  cast  upon  the 
waters  returned  to  his  own  heart.  Bis  eyes  beamed 
once  more  upon  his  son. 

Allen  had  at  length  entered  the  office  of  Attorney 
Floury,  who  furnished  him  sufficient  writing  for  daily 
necessities,  and  the  student  was  giving  now  his  whole 
time  and  energies  to  the  Law. 

One  day,  while  his  senior  was  at  court,  Allen  sat 
leaning  over  the  desk — his  mind  lost  in  the  perplexing, 
and  useless,  intricacies  of  the  famous  Chitty — how  happy 
would  he  have  been  to  make  the  better  acquaintance  of 
the  clear,  concise,  and  common-sense,  Stephens  ! 

Startled  by  a  loud,  sharp  rap  at  the  door,  he  turned 
and  beheld  his  father — with  his  cane. 

"  Allen  Magroy !" 

"  My  dear  father !" 

"  Are  you  doing  well,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  shall  soon  be  ready  for  examination.  Be 
seated,  father." 

The  face  of  Allen  Magroy  was  suffused  with  pleasure. 
The  old  man  took  the  proffered  chair,  and  planted  his 
cane  with  his  two  hands  before  him. 

"  Have  you  repented,  sir  ?" 

"  Kepented  of  what,  father  ?" 

"Repented  of  what?  you  rebellious  young  run-a 
gate  !  Of  leaving  the  roof  where  you  were  cradled  " — • 
possibly,  the  old  gentleman  referred  to  the  "  tree  tops," 
famous  in  nursery  song — "  of  following  after  that  pest 


FATHER     AND     SON.  143 

of  a  Maud  March  ;  of —  of —  of —  bringing  your  father's 
grey  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave,  sir!" 

Each  sentence  of  this  affectionate  address  was  empha 
sized  by  Mr.  Magroy's  cane-ferule  011  the  floor. 

For  such  an  outbreak  the  young  man  was  not  pre 
pared.  A  hope  had  suddenly,  violently,  been  crushed. 
It  was  with  difficulty  he  could  speak. 

"  Father,  I  would  not  reproach  you ;  but  what  ever 
can  account  for  this  misunderstanding  ?" 

"Misunderstanding!"  echoed  the  old  gentleman,  sav 
agely. 

"  "What  can  account  for  it  ?"  continued  Allen,  "  but  a 
want  of  knowledge,  an  absence  of  sympathy  between 
your  heart  and  mine  ?  Could  I  but  hope  to  clear  up  this 
cloud,  could  I  but  dare  to  unfold  my  views,  my  heart, 
my  wishes,  my  whole  being,  changed,  though  trampled 
upon  as  I  have  been,  I  would  thank,  oh  I  how  I  would 
thank,  the  great,  good  God!" 

Allen's  hands  were  clasped  together ;  his  look  was 
agony. 

"God  knows!  God  knows,"  he  cried  tenderly,  "I 
would  not  embitter  your  earthly  days." 

"  Then,  sir,"  spoke  Mr.  Magroy,  softly,  "  you  have 
repented  your  rashness,  you  will  obey  me?" 

"Dear  father,"  replied  Allen,  "you  see  things  in  so 
different  a  light.  The  young  lady  whom  you  despise  is 
my  benefactress,  you  yourself  once  smiled  upon.  Why, 
sir,  she  is  as  much  superior  to  Allen  Magroy  as  an  angel 
of  light  to  mortal  man  may  be.  Look,  father !  I  seem 


144  SHOEPAC     KECOLLECTIONS. 

to  myself  to  live  and  move  in  a  new  world,  since,  driven 
from  your  roof,  I  took  refuge  near  her.  She  repelled 
me ;  she  would  not,  angel  as  she  is,  stand  between  your 
heart  and  mine.  And,  sir,  if  I  ever  become  a  man," 
continued  Allen,  rising  proudly  from  his  chair,  "if  I 
ever  become  a  man,  whom  you  and  the  world  may 
deign  to  notice  as  a  man,  it  will  be  owing  to  that  girl !" 

"  <  Will  be,'  Allen ;  beware,  my  lad." 

"  Yes,  sir  !"  repeated  the  excited  soul,  bursting  nobly 
from  his  lips.  "  Yes,  sir !  '  will  be  !'  for  no  power  on 
earth  can  destroy  immortal  seed  once  planted.  And, 
sir!  whatever  may  betide — come  sorrow,  come  wrath, 
come  destruction  itself — I  feel  my  soul  wedded  to  that 
of  Maud  March." 

"  The  shaggy  forehead  of  Mr.  Magroy  grew  black  as 
the  pine  forest  beneath  a  thunder-cloud.  For  a  moment 
his  mind  seemed  wandering.  His  vision  had  a  far-off, 
far-down  look,  as  if  dreaming  over  the  lost  and  scattered 
Past.  His  frame  shook  convulsively.  But,  as  if  by  a 
mighty  effort,  he  regained  his  accustomed  look,  and 
Purpose  resumed  its  sway. 

"  I  tell  thee,  lad,  thou'rt  crazy ;  the  daughter  of  a 
seamstress,  a  washerwoman ;"  again  that  lost  look  and 
convulsive  manner. 

"  Father,  are  there  such  cobweb  figments  here  as 
castes  in  society  ?  No,  sir  !  "Where  lies  respectability  ? 
in  blood,  property,  position?  No,  sir!  Is  it  in  rich 
apparel,  luxurious  living,  coats  of  arms  ?  No,  sir !  The 
pride  of  life  consists  not  in  ancient  heritage,  but  in  vir- 


FATHER      AND     SON.  145 

tue  and  success.  Any  pure  and  refined  maiden  is  the 
equal  of  the  noblest  born  heir  in  the  land.  Is  it  not  so, 
father?" 

"  Go  on,  sir !  go  on,"  was  muttered  from  some  un 
known  thunder  region. 

"  "Why  do  old  men  forget  the  past  ?"  exclaimed  Allen, 
"  as  if  they  never  struggled — never  knew  the  consoling- 
sweets  of  precious  truth,  of  hope  shining  from  hill-tops, 
of  pure  natures  exalting  them  to  the  skies." 

"  To  debase  them  down  to  hell !"  now  burst  from  the 
lips  of  Mr.  Magroy,  with  a  gleam  of  lightning  from  the 
dark  pine  forest  about  his  eyes. 

Allen  started  back,  lost  in  amazement.  There  seemed 
to  be  some  hidden  mystery,  some  mighty  secret,  on  the 
eve  of  explosion.  He  waited  with  awe  for  his  father  to 
go  on.  Mr.  Magroy  was  silent. 

Allen,  after  waiting  a  while,  patiently  and  respect 
fully  resumed : 

"  I  did  not  dare  hope  to  convert  you,  father,  to  my 
views." 

Call  it  prejudice,  or  the  power  of  experience,  but  one 
might  as  well  attempt  to  turn  back  the  current  of  the 
long  and  deep-rolling  Mississippi  as  the  channel  of  an 
old  man's  thoughts.  But  this  was  not  in  Allen's  mind ; 
he  did  hope  that  his  father  would  view  life  as  he  would 
have  him  ;  he  did  dare  try  to  convert  him.  Soon  his 
hope  went  out ;  his  boldness  forsook  him.  Mr.  Magroy 
suddenly  stamped  with  foot  and  cane  impatiently,  and 
cried — 

7 


146  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"Moonshine!  stuff!  "Will  you  come  back,  Allen? 
Do  YOU  repent  the  wrongs  you  have  heaped  upon  your 
father,  sir  2" 

"If,"  answered  Allen,  thoughtfully  and  earnestly, 
"if  to  repent,  means  contrition  for  provoking  your 
anger,  I  do  sincerely  repent ;  if  it  means  regret  for  what 
has  passed  between  me  and  Miss  March,  I  can,  I  do, 
pray  your  forgiveness,  while  yet  I  bless  the  hours 
spent  with  that  superior  soul." 

Mr.  Magroy  chose  to  contain  himself  no  longer. 
Springing  from  the  chair,  on  which  he  had  been  sitting 
uneasily  during  the  harangue  of  his  enthusiastic  son, 
and  shaking  his  cane  in  the  face  of  Allen,  he  ex 
claimed — 

"  I  will  make  you  repent  it,  sir — yes  sir,  in  dust  and 
ashes.  I  will  humble  you  to  the  earth !  you  perverse, 
unworthy  descendant  of  an  honorable  family  !  I  have 
already  cut  you  off  from  my  will,  sir.  I  will  do  more  ; 
you  shall  find  me  an  enemy  wherever  you  are,  wrhen  you 
rise  up  or  sit  down,  go  or  come,  my  curse  shall  follow 
you,  and  after  I  die  my  ghost  shall  haunt  you." 

Mr.  Magroy  turned  to  go.  Then  suddenly  coming 
back,  he  cried : 

"Those  Marches,  whom  you  have  chosen  for  your 
gods,  let  them  reign  over  you ;  but  they  are  not  beyond 
my  reach,  mark  that,  Allen,  mark  that !" 

He  left  the  office,  punching  each  step  of  the  stair 
way  as  he  descended,  and  muttering  to  himself  threats 
of  vengeance  on  the  Marches. 


FATHER     AND      SON.  147 

Poor  Allen !  How  lie  paced  the  floor  !  The  words 
his  father  had  just  uttered  sank  deeply  in  his  heart.  His 
mind  reverted  to  the  past.  It  was  with  bitterness  that 
he  felt  the  truth,  that  parents  bring  children  into  the 
world,  and  owe  them  something  for  the  very  act.  Not 
neglect,  not  tyranny,  persecution,  destruction ;  but  care, 
sympathy,  a  gentle  hand  to  guide,  a  soft  voice  to  coun 
sel,  and — not  till  these  fail — the  rod.  But  his  father 
had  forced  him  into  rebellion,  and  but  this  moment 
had  come,  gone,  and  left  a  curse  behind  him. 

To  Maud,  to  whom  he  owed  everything  worth 
prizing,  he  could  no  longer  look  for  consolation.  Even 
she  seemed  to  turn  from  him.  There  the  curse  of  his 
father  had  already  commenced.  Then  he  thought  of  his 
father's  threat  towards  the  March  family.  This  urged 
his  feelings  into  a  new  channel,  and  called  for  action. 
What  his  father  meant  was  beyond  his  knowledge.  He 
sat  down,  and  addressed  a  note  to  Maud.  It  did  not 
suit.  He  tore  it  to  pieces,  and  wrote  a  second,  which 
he  flung  into  the  fire.  A  third  was  not  without  excep 
tions — so  captious  are  lovers,  even  in  the  plainest  mat 
ters — yet  he  thought  well  enough  of  it  to  put  it  in  his 
hat,  to  leave  at  the  door  of  Lilac  Cottage. 


148  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTION 


CHAPTEE    XY. 

CLOUDS. 

They  did  not  know  how  hate  can  burn 
In  hearts  once  changed  from  soft  to  stern. 

BTROS. 

IT  was  a  night  of  more  than  ordinary  cheerfulness. 
The  return  of  Guilford  on  the  previous  evening  lent  an 
additional  brightness  to  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  library 
fire.  A  knock  was  heard  at  the  front  door.  Bowes  came 
in  with  a  letter,  which  she  said,  looking  away,  was  for 
Maud.  Allen  Magroy  had  left  it,  without  any  message. 
Maud  blushed  and  turned  quite  pale,  as  Mrs.  March 
handed  the  letter  to  her  daughter. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  it  alone,  my  child  ?" 

Maud  retired,  taking  a  light. 

She  was  not  gone  a  moment,  but  returned,  and  handed 
the  opened  letter  to  her  mother.  It  was  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  MAUD, 

"  You  must,  you  will  pardon  me  for  writing,  when  you  learn 
what  I  have  to  communicate.  My  father  visited  me  this  afternoon.  I 
will  not  particularize  what  took  place  ;  but  in  going  away  he  used 
threatening  language  concerning  your  mother's  family.  He  never 
threatens  in  vain.  But  I  don't  know  what  it  can  be.  My  heart  is  wrung 


CLOUDS.  149 

at  the  thought  that  I  am  so  completely  in  the  dark  and   powerless  to 
befriend.    But  you  must  tell  your  mother  to  be  on  her  guard. 

"  ALLEN  MAGROY." 


This  epistle  of  course  threw  us  into  some  consterna 
tion.  Mrs.  March  alone  maintained  her  calmness. 
Mabel  declared  that  Mr.  Magroy  meant  to  burn  the 
house  down,  and  loud  were  her  lamentations  that  her 
father  was  not  at  home  to  rescue  us  from  destruction. 
M.  Latrobe  had  gone  to  New  York,  with  the  expectation 
of  sailing  for  London  on  business  for  the  company,  and 
probably  had  left  ere  this.  Maud  was  silent  and  pale. 
Guilford  said  he  saw  no  way  in  which  Mr.  Magroy 
could  injure  us. 

"  We  are  in  a  free  country,  and  the  law  will  protect 
us,  mother." 

Guilford  thought  highly  of  the  power  and  justice  of 
the  law,  on  account  of  the  experience  he  had  enjoyed 
in  witnessing  a  case  in  court,  already  hinted  at  in  John 
March's  letter.  Mrs.  March  thought  some  terrible 
calamity  might  be  impending  over  the  head  of  her 
daughter,  the  innocent  cause  of  the  unfortunate  quarrel 
between  father  and  son ;  but  she  wisely  kept  her  own 
counsel.  At  this  conjuncture  in  our  affairs  how  tear 
fully  the  widow  thought  of  her  husband,  their  natural 
protector.  But  was  he  not  watching,  and  was  there 
not  a  yet  more  powerful  friend,  even  the  widow's  God? 
At  last  Mrs.  March  spoke. 

"  Whatever  this  danger  may  be,  my  children,  I  feel 


150  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

assured  in  my  own  heart  that  God  will  provide  a  way 
of  escape." 

She  took  down  the  family  Bible,  and  read  the  9lst 
Psalm.  "With  what  sweet  hope  and  gentle  reassurance 
the  family  arose  after  evening  worship  and  retired  tc 
their  beds ! 

Such  is  Religion's  soothing  balm. 

The  period  for  the  third  annual  payment  on  the 
house  was  now  rapidly  approaching.  We  had  not  found 
our  creditor  a  hard  man.  The  day  had  passed  by  in 
both  previous  years  without  the  money  being  demanded, 
and  Mrs.  March  had  been  allowed  to  take  her  own  time. 
This  year  was  a  difficult  one  for  householders,  provisions 
were  never  known  so  high,  and  the  number  of  our 
boarders  (our  only  pecuniary  resource)  had  diminished. 
Mrs.  March  expected  daily  to  hear  some  dread  news  on 
account  of  the  warning  Allen  had  given.  But  it  seemed 
as  if  either  the  youth  was  mistaken,  or  that  his  father 
had  changed  his  humor,  for  weeks  passed  without 
calamity,  and  the  fear  of  it  at  first  so  appalling,  gradu 
ally  died  away.  Meantime  we  were  all  making  strenu 
ous  efforts  to  increase  the  lis*-  ">f  our  boarders,  to  reduce 
still  more  our  slender  expenses,  and  by  careful  economy 
to  lay  up  money  for  the  payment.  The  event,  however, 
seemed  doubtful.  The  times  grew  harder,  and  we  were 
drawing  on  what  had  already  been  saved  and  laid  by. 
The  first  day  of  the  last  quarter  came,  and  with  it 
another  note  from  Allen : 


CLOUDS.  151 

"  DEAR  MAUD  : 

"  I  have  just  learned  from  Mr.  Floury  that  my  father  has  pur 
chased  the  remaining  unpaid  portion  on  the  bill  of  sale  of  your  mother's 
house.  What  his  object  may  be  I  dare  not  conjecture.  Pardon  me  for 
presuming  to  advise  that  if  Mrs.  March  only  meets  the  payments 
promptly,  as  they  fall  due,  there  can  be  no  trouble.  Hoping  I  am  not 
destined  to  be  the  herald  of  further  exciting  news,  I  remain 

"  ALLEN  MAGROY." 

This  was  frightful  enough,  yet  Mrs.  March,  while  not 
despairing  of  making  the  next  payment  in  time,  felt 
some  relief  in  the  fact  that  Mr.  Magroy  seemed  to  direct 
his  malice  against  her  rather  than  Maud. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  it  may  be  a  mere  matter  of 
business  between  Mr.  Articles  and  Mr.  Magroy."  The 
former  was  the  gentleman  in  whose  hands  the  property 
had  fallen  at  my  father's  decease,  and  from  whom  Mrs. 
March  had  made  the  purchase. 

Every  sinew  was  now  strained  to  meet  the  approach 
ing  liability.  With  no  little  reluctance  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  March,  Maud,  Guilford,  and  myself  were  with 
drawn  from  our  schools  to  save  the  expense  of  tuition. 
Mabel  declared  she  would  not  go  either,  but  insisted 
on  reciting  to  Maud,  and  turning  her  school  expenses 
into  the  family  fund.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  we  all 
protested.  Mabel  would  have  her  way.  And  Maud 
became  our  instructress  for  the  nonce. 

Payment  day  came.  It  seemed  to  my  imaginative 
soul  that  we  were  on  the  eve  of  some  grand  catastrophe, 
that  the  world  was  to  be  in  some  sudden  manner 


152  SHOE P AC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

changed,  to  us  at  least,  for  I  knew  very  well  that  the 
filthy  lucre  was  not  forthcoming.  And  to  think  of 
Mr.  Magroy  !  I  represented  him  to  Mabel  as  a  bloody- 
minded  Shylock.  After  breakfast  my  mother  went 
down  the  avenue.  She  did  not  return  till  the  dinner 
hour.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  disappointed. 
Her  excellent  old  friend  Casher  Coiner  could  have 
helped  her  to  ten  times  the  amount  at  any  other  time, 
but  now  the  year  was  just  closing,  and  the  bank 
directors  had  given  orders  that  not  a  dollar  should  be 
discounted  until  they  saw  how  the  affairs  of  the  institu 
tion  stood,  and  whether  it  would  be  likely  to  weather 
the  currency  storm  just  beginning  to  rage  over  the 
country.  She  had  applied  to  several  of  her  friends 
among  the  merchants,  but  with  little  better  suc 
cess. 

In  the  afternoon  she  put  on  her  widows'  cap,  black 
bonnet  and  shawl,  and  neat   plain  collar,  and  again 
went  out.     Soon  reaching  the  house  of  Mr.  Magroy  she 
tremulously  raised  the  brass  knocker  at  the  door.    Dame 
Polly  Fidgets  appeared,  dressed  in  silk. 
"  Is  your  master  at  home,  Mrs.  Fidgets  2" 
"I'd  like  to  know  who  you  call  my  master,  mam. 

I'm  as  good  as  any  wash ' ' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.     Is  Mr.  Magroy  at  home  ?" 
"Well,  I'll  see,"  said  the  ruffled  hen  partridge,  smooth 
ing  her  feathers — with  an  ill  grace. 

Mrs.  March  was  left  standing  on  the  door-sill,  while 
the  dame  was  gone.     Her   heart  palpitated  violently, 


CLOUDS.  153 

and  in  spite  of  herself  already  augured  an  unfavorable 
termination  to  her  mission. 

"  This  way,  ma'am.  Mr.  Magroy  will  see  you  in  his 
office." 

"  Have  you  come  on  business,  ma'am?"  My  mother 
made  no  reply. 

"Worthy  Dame  Fidgets  did  not  leave  the  door  which 
opened  from  the  house  into  the  office,  but  anxious  for 
her  prospects,  and  fearful  that  a  reconciliation  might  be 
effected  between  her  master  and  the  Marches,  and 
thereby  lead  to  the  return  of  the  disinherited  son,  she 
applied  her  ear  to  the  keyhole. 

"  You  wish  to  see  me,  madarn,"  growled  the  deep 
voice  of  the  gentlemanly  proprietor  of  the  mansion,  who, 
from  some  unknown  cause  did  not  raise  his  face  towards 
the  lady. 

u  Yes,  sir,"  said  my  mother,  summoning  all  the  com 
posure  she  could  command. 

"  There  is  a  chair,"  spoke  again  the  voice. 

Mrs.  March  sat  down,  or  rather  sank  down,  in  silence, 
which  she  at  length  interrupted  with  difficulty. 

"  Mr.  Magroy,  there  has  been  some  trouble  between 
yourself  and  Allen,  in  which,  by  some  unintentional 
circumstance  or  act  perhaps  of" Mr.  Magroy  sud 
denly  sat  erect. 

"  Is  this  your  business,  madam  ?" 

Such  rudeness  in  his  speech !  his  looks !  his  whole 
manner,  aroused  all  the  pride  of  character  of  Mrs. 
March. 


154:  8HOKPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  No,  sir  !"  said  she  rising  with  dignity  and  coloring 
highly.  "  It  was  my  desire  to  remove  any  misunder 
standing  that  might  exist  between  us  as  neighbors. 
But  since  you  have  so  rudely  repulsed  me  at  the 
threshold  I  will  bid  that  intention  go,  as  best  it  may, 
conscious,  sir,  of  the  innocence  of  me  and  of  mine." 

"'Oh  yes,  Mi's.  March,  neither  you  nor  your  fair 
daughter  are  capable  of  womanly  designs  on  young 
gentlemen  above  yourselves  in  the  world.  Women 
never  are !" 

"  No  gentleman — no  one  but  a  coward,  sir !  would 
thus  insult  a  defenceless  woman." 

"  Do  you  come  to  beard  me,  woman?"  he  yelled  forth 
with  such  frenzy  as  to  shake  the  door  at  which  Mrs. 
Fidget's  ear  was  pinned,  so  as  to  shake  that  honest 
woman  from  head  to  foot — but  with  delight  at  the 
cheering  course  of  events. 

A  retort  rose  to  the  tongue  of  my  mother,  but  she 
remembered  the  cry  of  the  little  ravens  in  the  home 
nest,  and  she  shrank  back  likewise  from  the  vulgar  war 
of  words,  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  raised.  She 
had  expected  no  such  reception,  and  with  bitterness  she 
remembered  that  this  same  insolent  man  had  been 
under  no  small  obligation  to  her  husband  in  their  early 
business  life.  Nay,  more,  she  might  have  recalled  the 
time,  further  back,  when  the  young  Scot  conferred 
upon  her  the  honor  of  his  marked  attentions.  All  this 
flashed  through  her  oppressed  and  outraged  soul,  and 
left  an  almost  lightning  scathe.  Then  she  remembered 


CLOUDS.  155 

the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  I  will  rebuke  kings  for  thy 
sake,"  and  quietly  resolved  to  leave  the  widow's  cause 
with  the  widow's  God. 

She  advanced  to  the  table  at  which  Mr.  Magroy  was 
sitting,  and  laid  upon  it  a  package  of  money. 

"  Payment  on  the  house,  hem  !  Let  me  see,"  said  he, 
"  how  much  is  due."  The  dissembler !  had  he  not  been 
feasting  his  eye  on  the  little  note  all  day. 

"Three  hundred  dollars!" 

My  mother  kept  silence  as  he  then  proceeded  to  count 
the  bills. 

"  Here  are  but  two  hundred." 

"  Yes  sir  !  I  thought  that  if  convenient  to  you" — my 
poor  mother  paused.  To  beg  any  favor  of  this  creature 
was  too  humiliating.  Then  she  endeavored  to  look  upon 
it  as  a  matter  of  business  and  went  on,  under  the  scowl 
of  her  creditor. 

"  If  as  convenient  to  you,  sir,  a  few  days  delay  would 
I  think  enable  me  to  procure  the  remaining  hundred 
dollars." 

"  Possibly  your  expected  son-in-law,  that  penniless 
scapegrace  of  mine,  might  assist  you,"  he  said  sarcastic- 
ally. 

My  mother  bit  her  lips  till  the  blood  flowed.  At 
length  she  was  able  to  reply  calmly. 

"  Mr.  Magroy,  you  have  repelled  my  explanations, 
you  have  added  insult  to  insinuation,  you  would  drive 
me  to  madness  and  to  ruin.  But  know,  sir  !  that  there 
is  a  higher  tribunal  where  justice  shall  be  meted  out 


156  BHOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

<f 

to  the  oppressor  and  the  oppressed.  You  will  learn  some 
day,  perhaps  on  this  earth,  the  vileness  of  your  calumni 
ous  insinuation.  And  now,  even  though  you  appear  to 
triumph,  I  fear  you  not.  No,"  she  added  murmuringly, 
li  I  fear  not  what  man  can  do." 

Mrs.  March's  calmness  had  by  this  time  excited  the 
inflammable  character  before  her,  even  as  oil  the  burning 
tow. 

"What  the  devil  has  got  into  all  of  them?"  he  cried 
jumping  upon  the  floor,  and  stamping  fiercely  with  his 
foot  and  striking  his  cane.  "  My  villainous  son  and  this 
washerwoman  preach  to  me !  yes,  a  woman  preach  to 
me  !  Is  that  the  way  you  converted  him  ?  caused  him 
to  raise  his  arm  against  his  indulgent  father  ?  drove  him. 
away  from  the  fire-side  of  home  ;  filled  his  head  with 
fine  notions  of  equality  and  virtue  ;  a  pox  on  both  you 
and  your  preaching !  Please  begone  from  my  roof, 
madam,  you  contaminate  a  once  happy  home  with  your 
hypocritical  white  visage." 

"  When  you  have  endorsed  the  amount  of  that  pack 
age  on  the  note,  Mr.  Magroy." 

My  mother  was  remarkably  cool  and  self  possessed. 
A  timid  bird  even  will  fight  for  her  nest  and  young. 

"No  such  thing,  madam!  I'll  do  no  such  thing!" 
said  he  tossing  the  money  on  the  table. 

"  Bring  the  whole  amount  due,  and  that  in  coin,  or 
I'll  turn  you  out  of  your  house,  bag  and  baggage  1" 

Mrs.  March  gathered  up  the  package,  and  went  out  by 
the  office  door.  Happily  this  for  Mrs.  Fidgets,  who  was 


CLOUDS.  157 

so  fascinated  by  the  scene,  that  she  was  not  prepared 
for  my  mother's  exit  by  the  door  at  which  she  was 
admitted. 

Mrs.  March  passed  through  the  little  orchard  fronting 
the  office,  and  turned  her  steps  towards  the  business 
portion  of  the  city.  It  was  past  banking  hours,  and 
most  of  the  merchants  had  either  deposited  in  the  banks 
or  locked  away  their  specie  for  safe  keeping ;  so  that  it 
was  no  easy  matter  to  exchange  the  bills  for  the  legal 
tender  upon  which  Mr.  Magroy  insisted.  She  succeeded 
in  exchanging  a  part,  however,  but  as  for  borrowing  the 
additional  hundred  dollars  that  was  entirely  out  of  the 
question  on  that  day.  She  remembered  that  the  law 
allowed  her  until  twelve  at  night  to  make  the  payment, 
and  so  went  heavily  homeward.  As  she  walked  down 
the  little  lawn  in  front  of  the  dear  old  mansion  that 
looked  now  like  a  blessing  brightening  as  if  on  the  eve 
of  flight,  she  was  almost  thrilled  at  the  loud  cheery 
notes  of  a  robin  perched  on  top  of  a  leafless  lilac  bush. 
A  momentary  gleam  of  hope  seemed  to  quicken  her 
steps  at  the  sound. 

"That  robin  wouldn't  sing  so  if  the  little  hands 
that  fed  it  were  going  away :  no  !  the  angels  would  not 
let  it." 

So  half  smilingly  half  sadly  thought  the  little  care- 
laden  woman. 

Now  what  to  do  we  all  did  not  know.  Our  tea  passed 
in  silence.  Tea,  that  had  always  been  the  liveliest 
meal,  where  our  mother  presided  over  the  softly  exhil- 


158  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

arating  beverage  with  such  infinite  good  humor,  and 
when  she  told  our  fortunes  from  the  tea  leaves  in  our 
cups  in  the  manner  of  her  New  England  grandmother, 
and  fine  happy  fortunes  they  always  were.  JSTow,  with 
what  tear-moistened  faces  we  sat  round  the  board,  rais 
ing  our  eyes  timidly  to  each  other,  and  casting  them 
anxiously  towards  the  head  of  the  table. 

Tea  was  not  over  when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  front- 
hall  door.  Guilford  arose  and  went  to  answer  the  call. 
He  did  not  return.  After  waiting  some  time  we  march 
ed  very  solemnly  into  the  library,  where  we  found  him 
looking  soberly  yet  singularly  into  the  fire  before  which 
he  was  sitting.  It  was  evident  something  new  had  hap 
pened,  and  that  it  was  not  of  an  unhappy  nature  was 
plain  from  the  boy's  countenance.  Yet  as  no  one 
thought  it  could  be  connected  with  the  terrible  cloud 
overhanging  us  and  keeping  us  all  so  silent,  no  one 
thought  of  questioning  him.  Finally  the  restless  little 
Mabel  ran  over  to  Guilford,  took  his  face  in  her  two 
hands,  turned  it  roguishly  towards  her  own,  and  said : 

"  "What  is  it,  Guilford  ?  Don't  torment  me  any  longer. 
You  are  provokingly  deliberate  in  your  movements,  sir 
knight." 

"  Mother,"  said  Guilford,  now  clearly  smiling,  "  it 
was  a  friend." 

.  My  mother  looked  towards  Maud,  who  was  intently 
regarding  Guilford's  further  words. 

"  What  friend  ?"  cried  Mabel. 

"  He  had  seen  you  accidently  in  a  shop  inquiring  for 


CLOUDS.  159 

specie,  and  thought  by  your  manner  you  were  in  trouble, 
On  my  going  to  the  door  he  took  me  down  to  the 
gate  ;  said,  I  was  the  very  one  he  wanted  to  see.  He 
inquired  what  was  the  trouble.  I  told  him  all.  "  Tell 
your  mother,"  said  he,  "  I  have  that  amount  in  specie 
at  my  lodgings  ;  not  to  perplex  herself  any  more  about 
it.  I  will  see  Mr.  Magroy  before  nine  o'clock  and  pay 
it." 

"  Heavenly  Father  !"  said  my  mother  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  thank  thee,"  and  the  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks. 
The  others  were  too  much  touched  by  her  agitation  to 
interrupt  it. 

At  length  I  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  haven't  told  who  it  was,  Guilford." 

"  I  know  !  I  know !"  cried  the  delighted  Mabel. 

"  "Who  do  you  think,  canary  bird  ?" 

"  Allen  Magroy  ?" 

"  No  !  he  has  the  heart,  but  I  fear  not  the  means." 

"  Then  who  ?"  demanded  the  disappointed  child 
rather  petulantly,  for  Allen  was  her  hero. 

"  Major  Fontenoy,"  quietly  replied  Guilford  March. 


160  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTEK    XYI. 

THE  YOUNG   OEATOE. 

Methought  I  heard  a  voice, 

Sweet  as  the  shepherd's  pipe  upon  the  mountains, 
When  all  his  little  flock's  at  feed  before  him. 

OTWAY. 

IT  was  a  good  custom  in  our  old  times,  for  gentlemen 
of  all  classes,  young  and  old,  military,  political,  legal, 
commercial,  and  mechanical — clergymen,  schoolmas 
ters,  and  students — to  meet  for  purposes  of  debate. 
Eloquence  was  then  a  gentlemanly  and  influential 
accomplishment ;  the  tricks  and  chicanery  of  politics 
had  not  yet  supplanted  it. 

The  society  met  in  the  old  Council  House. 

This  venerable  building,  now  no  more,  deserves  a 
passing  word,  as  it  dated  back  to  the  most  primitive 
times  of  the  white  men  on  that  frontier.  Here  the 
chiefs  of  the  tribes  gravely  smoked  Ka-nic-a-nic — or 
Indian  tobacco  of  the  North,  prepared  from  the  bark  of 
the  red  willow — with  the  governor  of  the  town  and  the 
ghostly  Jesuit  Fathers.  The  odor  of  ka-nic-a-nie  still 
clung  to  its  walls.  There  seemed  yet  to  be  a  sort  of 
Indian  summer  reigning  in  its  atmosphere,  as  the  light 


THE     YOUNG     ORATOR.  161 

streamed  through  the  dusty  windows,  and  was  reflected 
from  the  old  yellow  paintings. 

Here,  then,  after  more  stately  modern  edifices  had 
robbed  the  building — a  long,  low  two-story  affair — of  its 
primitive  honors,  met  the  ambitious  young  men  and 
worthy  literary  rabbis,  to  hold  high  debate. 

How  well  I  remember  the  chief  speakers !  Not  the 
least  attractive  among  the  young  men  was  Allen 
Magroy.  His  tall  person,  his  long,  black  hair,  his 
musical  voice,  the  slightly  sarcastic,  yet  ever-softening, 
smile,  and  graceful  gesture  ;  he  stands  before  me  now, 
pausing  even  at  the  tumultuous  applauses  beating  in  the 
hall  of  my  heart. 

In  the  chair,  presiding  with  urbanity,  sits  Major  Fon- 
tenoy.  Here  is  Maud  by  my  side,  an  attentive,  nay  a 
rapt  listener,  at  least  to  one  voice ;  and  there,  with  his 
chin  on  his  cane,  sits  old  Growl  himself.  While  over 
yonder,  under  the  shade  of  the  gallery,  I  espy  Dr.  Oli- 
phaat,  with  his  face  and  whiskers  wrapped  in  the  folds 
of  a  white  handkerchief. 

"Who  may  listen  without  emotion  to  the  enthusiastic 
heart-wisdom  of  Youth,  when  glowing  with  the  light  of 
eloquence  ?  He  kindles  his  torch,  not  at  the  baleful 
fires  of  the  world  as  it  is,  but  turns  it  towards  the  world 
as  he  thinks  it  was.  Brutus  is  his  justice,  Leonidas  his 
patriot ;  his  father  is  Kegulus,  his  mother,  Cornelia,  his 
sister,  Yirginia,  and  Greece  and  Rome  are  his  native 
country. 

The  question  to-night  concerns  the  rival  merits  of 


1G2  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

learning  and  virtue  in  the  welfare  of  a  state.  The 
learned  and  witty  Counsellor  O'Mar,  with  his  drollery, 
and  mixture  of  pathos  and  ridicule,  has  just  sat  down 
beneath  the  roars  and  shouts  of  the  meeting. 

Allen  rises,  to  answer  him  on  the  side  of  virtue.  You 
wonder  at  his  temerity.  His  face  is  crimsoned  with 
genuine  modesty.  He  alludes  deferentially  to  the 
superior  judgment  and  greater  experience  of  his  prede 
cessor,  and  pays  a  compliment  to  his  art  and  learning. 
Before  proceeding  to  unfold  his  own  argument,  he 
attacks  the  weak  points  of  his  adversary  ;  and  in  less 
than  five  minutes,  you  are  quietly  astonished  at  the 
ridiculousness  of  the  Irish  counsellor's  position,  deemed 
a  moment  ago  impregnable.  But  you  console  your 
self  with  the  general  absurdity  of  Irish  blarney,  and 
are  not  yet  ready  to  give  the  stripling  before  you  credit 
for  overthrowing  them.  He  now  proceeds  to  state  the 
question  on  his  own  side.  Where  did  the  once  indo 
lent  idler  get  hold  of  this  principle  ?  where  pick  up 
that  fact  ?  Now  he  warms  into  the  argument ;  his  body 
seems  to  dilate  into  the  ample  proportions  of  a  man  ;  he 
stands  a  head  taller  than  before  ;  he  waves  his  hand 
with  a  new  grace  ;  his  eyes  beam  with  a  new  fire ;  you 
watch  them  with  intense  interest ;  they  seem  fairly  to 
light  up  the  hall,  with  its  dusky  galleries.  Men  lean 
over  on  the  backs  of  the  benches  in  front  of  them ;  a 
pen  dropping  from  the  secretary's  table,  sounds  like 
thunder,  and  you  are  ready  to  devour  the  secretary  for 
venturing  to  stoop  down  and  pick  it  up.  In  the  heat  of 


THE     YOUNG     ORATOR.  163 

the  argument,  at  the  top  of  a  climax  of  power  and 
beauty,  the  tables  are  suddenly  turned  again  on  the 
counsellor.  A  sudden  sally  takes  everybody  by  sur 
prise,  and  brings  down  the  house  with  peals  of  laughter. 
You  look  at  the  adversary,  expecting  to  see  him  faint, 
or  get  up  and  leave  the  hall,  and  are  surprised  at  his 
nonchalance;  nay,  he  himself  looks  with  admiration  at 
the  young  orator. 

Then  came  the  peroration.  The  debater's  long  locks 
are  brushed  away  from  his  temples.  His  eyes  have  a 
far-off  gaze ;  and  even  your  own  thoughts  are  not  at 
home  now.  You  see  the  Acropolis,  the  streets  of 
Athens,  the  prison  where  Socrates  sits  drinking  hemlock, 
and  conversing  calmly  with  his  friends.  Or,  by  rapid 
movements  of  the  fancy,  you  are  a  spectator  in  Inde 
pendence  Hall,  and  behold  Franklin  and  Washington ; 
or  on  Bunker  Hill,  amid  the  fire,  and  smoke,  and  shock, 
and  war,  and  groans,  and  shouts,  you  lean  over  the 
dying  Warren.  Then  solemnly  you  gaze,  with  the  pale, 
husky,  agitated  champion,  on  Calvary,  and  see  the 
cross,  and  victim  there  nailed  between  the  two  malefac 
tors,  while  Rabbis  are  contending  in  the  Sanhedrim 
over  their  books  of  ancient  lore,  and  ignorant  of  the 
Light  that  has  come  into  the  world. 

Allen  sits  down,  and  all  eyes  are  turned  on  old  Mr. 
Magroy  ;  but  mine  regard  only  the  sweet,  trembling, 
delighted  Maud  at  my  side.  Jt  seemed  to  me  that  when 
the  speaker  spoke  of  learning,  he  addressed  Mr.  Magroy, 
and  when  he  grew  so  eloquent  in  the  cause  of  virtue, 


164  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

his  great,  burning  eye-balls  shone  only  on  Maud.  The 
question  is  carried  by  acclamation  in  favor  of  virtue. 
The  meeting  breaks  up,  and  everybody  shakes  the  hand 
of  Allen  Magroy — everybody  save  one.  Yet  their  eyes 
have  met,  and  in  that  one  look  is  Allen's  chief  laurel. 

How  cruel  that  destiny  seemed,  which,  like  an  impas 
sable  abyss,  divided  those  great  twin  hearts.  There 
they  stand,  like  two  tall  cliffs,  asunder,  with  their  sun 
lit  faces  fixed,  the  one  upon  the  other,  in  steady  con 
stancy,  sublime  to  contemplate. 

Time,  the  river  at  their  feet,  rolled  down  many  a 
golden  sand  for  others,  yet  brought  no  happiness  for 
them. 

The  scrupulous  Maud  pursued  her  conscientious  path, 
and,  so  far  as  outward  sign  might  show,  was  no  more  to 
Allen  Magroy  than  other  gentle  maidens  of  the  city. 

Thus  years  flowed  wearily  away.  The  river  was 
widening  towards  the  ocean. 

Meanwhile  Allen  passed  the  bar,  and  Mr.  Floury 
took  the  eloquent  young  advocate  into  partnership. 
Allen  mingled  with  society ;  he  often  met  Maud ;  she 
was  generally  attended  by  the  devoted  Major  Fonteuoy, 
who  lived  only  in  the  light  of  her  smiles. 


WILD      OATS.  165 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

WILD    OATS.         , 

DURING  the  period  which  has  passed,  Maud  has  been 
teaching  school,  helping  no  little  towards  the  purchase 
of  the  homestead,  and  Guilford  has  been  placed  in  a 
store  with  the  understanding  that  the  nights  shall  be 
his  own,  and  his  wages  go  scrupulously  into  the  com 
mon  fund.  Yet  with  these  aids  Mrs.  March  has  been 
forced  to  sell  a  portion  of  the  large  grounds  belonging 
to  the  place,  as  with  each  year,  according  to  the  terms 
of  contract,  an  additional  hundred  dollars  over  the  last 
payment  is  added. 

Meantime  we  have  frequent  letters  from  John. 
During  the  annual  vacations  at  college  he  goes  into 
some  ISTew  England  town  and  teaches  school,  thus  he 
contribiites  towards  his  education  and  aids  his  mother 
in  carrying  out  the  views  of  Mr.  March.  College  con 
ceits  are  gradually  wearing  away  beneath  experience 
and  maturing  reason.  He  has  lost  his  heart  beyond 
redemption,  every  summer  during  his  absence,  till  now 
he  begins  to  talk  wisely  of  the  world,  and  slightingly  of 
the  softer  sex.  It  is  thought  that  John  will  marry  a 
rich  wife  and  become  a  solid  man  of  Boston. 


166  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

As  for  myself  the  memory  of  my  father  is  yet  green 
in  my  heart.  My  love  for  him  is  the  little  shining  river 
meandering  through  my  days,  and  on  its  banks  are 
clustered  the  fair  flowers  of  beauty  and  the  rich  fruits 
of  love.  I  am  not  sure  that  my  poetical  eiforts  do  not 
date  back  as  far  as  this  period. 

It  was  a  melancholy  happiness  to  take  Mabel  with 
me  Sunday  afternoons  with  baskets  of  flowers,  which  we 
braided  and  laid  all  over  his  grave.  Sometimes  my 
mother  went  with  us,  and  looked  on  with  an  abstracted 
air,  while  we  twined  garlands  over  the  sorrel,  which 
like  little  crosses  waved  amid  the  grasses  as  the  gentle 
south  wind  swept  along.  On  one  occasion  a  tall  elderly 
man,  a  stranger,  who  said  he  came  all  the  way  from 
Nova  Scotia,  accompanied  my  mother  to  the  church 
yard,  and  they  two  knelt  down  together  and  wept.  He 
did  not  make  himself  known  to  us,  but  only  said  : 

"  He  was  my  friend,  where  is  his  grave  ?" 

This  person  may  have  been  once  a  fur  trader. 

My  wanderings  in  the  woods  formed  an  ever  fresh 
source  of  pleasing  ruminations.  Here  I  led  a  life  all 
my  own.  The  noise  of  the  school,  the  sports  of  merry 
companions,  and  the  pleasures  of  home,  where  my 
mother  and  Mabel  were — and  yet  where  care,  though 
in  gentle  guise,  stood  in  the  midst  of  us — school-books, 
and  the  little  every-day  duties  which  fell  to  my  share 
in  the  common  object  to  gain — all  these  were  forgotten 
in  the  woods.  The  rustling  of  the  branches,  the  sing 
ing  of  the  birds,  the  distant  sound  of  a  gun,  the  bark 


WILD      OATS.  167 

of  invisible  clogs,  the  lowing  of  far-off  cattle,  the  soft 
mottled  sunsliine,  the  cool  shade  and  fragrant  atmos 
phere,  charmed  my  half  melancholy  senses.  Perched 
in  the  crotch  of  some  tree  on  Wednesday  or  Saturday 
afternoons — when  there  was  no  school — I  would  sit  with 
a  pleasing  book,  a  romance,  or  the  homelike  songs  of 
Burns,  even  Addison's  Spectator  and  Johnson's  Rambler 
were  devoured  with  sober  satisfaction  :  but  my  delights 
were  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  and  Rasselas.  In  the  one 
I  compared  Mrs.  March  to  Parson  Primrose,  in  the 
other,  Guilford  to  the  Prince.  I  thought  it  good  to  be 
a  philosopher.  Then  I  did  not  know  but  a  poet  would 
be  the  thing.  Then  I  compromised  between  the  two, 
and  resolved  to  be  both. 

But  a  few  times  going  to  the  theatre,  I  remember  the 
first  play — The  Forty  Thieves — and  reading  a  book  of 
plays,  put  me  in  love  with  the  drama.  "With  reluctance 
I  confess  that  many  a  night  I  would  kiss  my  trustful 
mother  good  night,  go  to  bed  only  till  the  house  grew 
still,  then  rise  and  steal  off  to  the  theatre.  At  last  I 
resolved  to  write  a  play.  For  this  purpose  I  selected 
an  exciting  novel  of  the  day,  and  worked  the  whole 
winter  changing  it  into  dialogues  with  acts  and  scenes. 
Finishing  to  my  taste,  and  to  the  recommendation  of  a 
young  gentleman  boarder,  my  confidant,  I  lounged 
around  the  purlieus  of  the  theatre,  principally  at  the 
drinking-shop,  where  the  actors  congregated,  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  place  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
manager.  For  weeks  I  watched  with  the  play  buttoned 


168  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

up  in  my  coat.  The  manager  came  and  went  occasion 
ally,  but  he  was  a  repulsive  looking  man,  who  acted  the 
parts  of  cruel  tyrants  and  bad  fathers,  and  my  heart 
always  failed  me.  Finally  I  summoned  sufficient  courage 
to  address  one  of  the  principal  actors — a  kind-hearted 
man — he  may  be  living  yet,  his  name  was  Marsh. 
Noticing  that  jokes  always  seemed  to  please  the  actors, 
I  asked  him  waggishly : 

"  Are  you  sure,  sir,  that  your  name  is  Marsh  ?" 

The  gentleman  stared,  and  his  companions  laughed. 

""Well,  sir!"  he  said  at  last,  "suppose  it  be,  then 
again,  suppose  it  be  not,  what  then  ?" 

My  waggishness  all  vanished  and  left  me  in  the 
lurch. 

"  Only  please,  sir,  my  name  is  March,  and  I  thought 
possibly  yours  might  be  too,  and  that  you  may  have 
changed  it." 

"  "Why,  you  little  rogue,  do  you  think  me  ashamed 
of  my  father's  name  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I,  quite  frightened,  "  only  I  have 
heard  that  actors  frequently  change  their  names." 

"  You  are  a  curious  little  fellow :  won't  you  take  a 
cigar  or  an  orange,  or  something  ?" 

"  No,  sir !     I  thank  you  very  much." 

On  the  following  occasion  of  my  visit  to  the  place  I 
found  Mr.  Marsh  alone,  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  garden 
attached  to  the  theatre. 

He  accosted  me  with  great  cordiality,  and  called  me 
to  a  seat  by  his  side.  After  begging  his  pardon  for 


WILD      OATS.  169 

prying  into  his  private  business  the  other  day,  I  took 
my  play  from  my  breast.  He  glanced  at  it  very  care 
lessly. 

"Who  wrote  this,  my  little  friend?" 

"I  did,  sir."     He  gazed  doubtingly. 

"  You  are  not  telling  me  a  story  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  never  told  a  story  in  my  life."  And 
I  colored  deeply,  and  was  a  little  offended. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  done  with  this?" 

"  If  you  would  only  be  good  enough  to  look  at  it  and 
see  whether  it  can  be  acted  ?" 

"  Oh  !  certainly,  certainly.  If  it  can  be  brought  out 
you  will  see  it  announced  in  the  bills." 

"  But  I  say" I  had  risen,  and  was  about  to  leave 

him,  "  I  wouldn't  write  any  more  tragedies." 

I  stopped,  and  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  It's  poor  business,  even  for  a  grown  man,  my  little 
author.  If  you  want  to  be  a  happy  man,  don't  write 
plays.  If  you  want  to  escape  having  all  your  nights 
and  days  plunged  into  the  inky  depths  of  despair,  don't 
write  plays.  If  you  wish  neither  to  envy  nor  be  envied, 
if  you  do  not  want  to  live  on  the  rack,  to  be  a  haunter 
of  green-rooms  and  taverns,  to  stand  in  fear  of  miserable, 
capricious,  besotted,  starveling  stage  managers,  and 
crochety  critics,  for  God's  sake  don't  write  plays !" 

The  kind  man  seemed  to  be  very  much  in  earnest.  I 
thanked  him  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  shook  hands,  and  as 
soon  as  I  had  passed  through  the  drinking-rooms,  I  ran 
with  all  my  might. 

8 


170  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

It  must  be  remembered,  in  justification  of  the  words 
of  the  actor,  that  at  that  period  the  drama  was  at  its 
lowest  point,  and  a  very  diiferent  institution  from  the 
now-flourishing  temple  of  Thespis. 

For  weeks,  I  looked  at  the  bottom  of  the  play-bills 
for  the  announcement  of  the  forthcoming  appearance  of 
a  "  new  play,  ;  The  Outlaw,'  by  a  young  gentleman  of 
this  city." 

The  season  terminated,  the  company  went  away,  the 
theatre  gates  closed,  and  I  was  disappointed.  During 
the  four  or  five  weeks  that  intervened,  I  lived,  as  the 
good  actor  predicted,  fairly  "  on  the  rack."  But  that 
was  nothing  to  what  my  fate  would  have  been  had  they 
attempted  the  performance  of  my  tragedy.  In  fact,  I 
am  not  sure  that  he  is  not  a  good  man  and  a  benefactor, 
who  declines  to  perform  your  first  play  or  publish  your 
first  poem. 

Shortly  after  this  air-castle  t  timbled  into  blue- tinted 
ruins,  one  of  the  class  of  persons  called  revival  preach 
ers  favored  our  city  with  a  visit.  It  became  the  fashion 
at  once  to  "get  religion,"  as  it  is  called,  particularly 
among  the  young  people.  The  uncouth  eloquence  of 
the  Rev.  Ilolifernes  Brimstone,  was  physically  captiva 
ting. 

After  all,  there  is  something  picturesque  in  the  wild 
descriptions  and  familiar  allegories  of  revival  preachers. 
My  heart  fell  a  willing  sacrifice  to  conscience,  aroused 
by  the  roaring  of  the  lion  of  Judah.  "With  a  firm  step 
I  advanced  to  the  bench  known  as  the  anxious-seat,  and 


WILD     OA.TS.  171 

full  of  the  frenzy,  as  well  as  the  language  of  those 
around  me,  with  my  arm  uplifted,  I  exclaimed — 

"  I  have  been  a  soldier  of  Satan,  and  I  enlist  under 
the  banner  of  the  cross !" 

And  straightway  fell  upon  my  knees,  and  poured  out 
torrents  of  tears.  I  remember  that  while  on  my  knees, 
I  fancied  myself  a  sort  of  martyr  to  early  piety — possi 
bly  my  name  might  yet  figure  in  some  new  Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs.  The  extreme  susceptibility  of  emo 
tion,  however,  soon  wore  away.  My  religion  was  an 
imaginative  principle,  creating  a  new  world.  I  desired 
to  do  something  out  of  the  common  way,  No  ordinary 
missionary  life,  even,  would  do.  I  inquired  of  my 
mother  whether  there  were  not  some  Jewish  blood  in 
the  family  ?  Possibly  I  might  be  a  Hebrew  of  the 
Hebrews ;  nay  a  lineal  descendant  of  David ;  per 
chance  the  intended  restorer  of  the  Jews — nay  the  very 
Messiah  !  or,  at  least,  a  very  near  connection — a  sort  of 
right-hand  man,  an  earthly  instrument,  his  sword-arm — • 
destined  to  overthrow  kingdoms  and  achieve  the  victory 
of  Armageddon. 

The  "  young  converts,"  as  the  good  deacon  called  us, 
were  examined  for  admission  to  the  communion  of  the 
faithful.  The  number  of  questions  propounded  was  as 
great  as  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore,  and  more  various. 

I  failed  beyond  redemption  on  the  following  question : 

"  Do  you  feel  it  to  be  your  duty,  my  young  brother, 
to  urge  upon  sinners  the  danger  of  their  souls,  in  all 
places  and  under  all  circumstances  ?" 


172  SHOE  PAG     RECOLLECTIONS. 

""What!"  I  demanded,  "if  I  chance  to  meet  a  young 
lady  on  the  street?" 

"  Exactly." 

"  Then  my  answer  is,  no." 

My  name  was  placed  on  the  list  of  doubtful  cases. 
"What!  notwithstanding  all  those  dreams  of  philan 
thropy  and  Hebrew  visions,  could  the  wise  men  of  the 
church  hesitate  ?  I  began  to  suspect  their  fitness. 

But,  it  seems,  the  worthy  committee  had  a  shrewd 
method  of  their  own.  Time  proved  its  wisdom.  In  less 
than  a  month,  I  shudder  to  think  what  a  reprobate  I  be 
came.  I  attended  a  juvenile  ball !  there  were  fiddles  and 
flutes,  a  bass-viol  and  triangles,  sponge-cake,  lemonade, 
and  a  glass  of  wine  in  an  ante-room.  Guilford  and  Mabel, 
Maud  and  Allen  were  there,  and  Major  Fontenoy  and 
M.  Latrobe  looked  on  with  beaming  faces.  The  floor 
was  chalked,  and  I  plead  guilty  to  dancing !  nay,  to 
being  one  of  the  managers  !  and  wearing  a  blue  rosette, 

made  by  • alas,  not  Mabel !  And  here  it  is  time  to 

confess  to  another  delinquency.  During  this  memo 
rable  summer  I  had  fallen  desperately  in  love.  My 
Dulcinea  was  much  older  than  myself,  yet  quite  as 
ardent  a  lover.  Did  she  not  return  a  bashful  kiss  I 
ventured  to  steal  at  that  very  ball?  and  did  we  not 
tramp  the  streets  of  the  city,  and  the  border  of  the  river 
a  mile  above  town,  of  nights,  night  after  night-?  and 
did  not  her  step-mother — cruel  woman  ! — scold  her,  and 
call  me  "  little  boy,"  one  day  when  I  had  my  newest 
pantaloons  and  tightest  straps  on  ?  and  did  not  her 


WILD     OATS.  1Y3 

father  send  her  away  East  to  boarding-school  ?  and  was 
I  not  sent  by  Mrs.  March  to  rusticate  at  Farmer 
Jumps's  ?  and  did  I  not  catch  the  fever  and  ague  ?  and 
did  I  not  recover  and  write  Dulcinea  a  letter,  vowing 
fidelity  and  constancy  towards  her,  but  hatred  to  all 
step-mothers,  and  chiefly  one  f  and  did  I  not  receive  a 
silly  reply,  saying  she  had  not  time  to  write  me,  because 
she  had  just  made  an  engagement  to  ride  with  "  such  a 
love  of  a  young  man?"  What  better  proof  of  love 
than  change  ?  "What  better  proof  of  fever  than  a 
chill  ?  How  Mabel  laughs  at  me  to  this  blessed  day 
about  it ! 

From  the  frenzy  of  religion  to  the  frenzy  of  love ; 
from  love  to  fever  and  ague — what  a  fall !  I  recovered 
from  the  latter  to  plunge  with  new  ardor — more  than 
the  ardor  of  youth — into  a  little  sea  of  politics !  The 
ship  of  state  was  a  juvenile  debating  society,  over  whose 
interests  the  members  strove  with  a  valor  worthy  a 
higher  place  than  these  chronicles.  The  question  at 
issue  was  the  welfare  and  increase  of  our  collection  of 
books.  Parties  formed,  divided,  fought.  Caucuses 
were  held  in  kitchens,  garrets,  cellars,  fire-engine, 
houses,  anywhere.  Oaths  of  secresy  and  union  were 
administered.  Various  sagacious  methods  were  adopted 
to  draw  over  the  wavering.  Speeches  were  delivered 
not  contemptible  for  manner,  matter,  or  success.  Duels 
were  fought — fortunately  with  cork  bullets.  Thus 
sagacious  politicians  sprouted  in  the  fertile  fields  of  the 
tumultuous  West.  Thus  tact,  invention,  secresy,  combi- 


174:  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

nation,  and  the  power  of  concerted  action  takes  earlr 
root,  and  .bears  at  no  late  day  a  goodly  crop  of  heroes 
and  statesmen. 

Hands  once  in,  as  the  saying  is,  our  mischievour 
thoughts  were  turned  into  new  channels.  We  played 
tricks  on  honest  citizens  and  their  houses  at  night.  We 
conspired  against  the  peace  of  the  city.  We  interrupted 
public  meetings,  and  charged  upon  singing  schools.  We 
dived  into  forbidden  places  in  disguise,  and  came  out — 
at  the  Mayor's  Court. 

Thus  feverishly,  thus  ignobly  were  consumed  some  of 
the  most  precious  years  of  my  life.  Yet  in  common 
with  other  staid  old  gentlemen  who  look  back  with  pity 
— if  not  pleasure — on  the  foibles  of  youth — as  at  the 
worst  but  the  rank  weeds  of  a  fertile  soil — I  sometimes 
like  to  recount  my  wild  oats.  That  a  certain  religious 
tone,  like  a  vein  of  gold  running  through  Plutonic 
regions,  preserved  its  course  through  this  unhappy 
period,  may  seem  strange,  yet  such  was  the  fact,  trifling 
as  may  be  the  value  set  upon  it  by  those  who  know  little 
of  the  human  heart.  How  sweetly  have  I  prized  it 
since  !  The  bare  consciousness  of  wrong-doing  may  be 
the  slender  thread  connecting  man  with  divinity.  It 
may  be  the  clue  that  will  lead  him  through  error  and 
transgression  to  the  final  light. 

How  the  thoughts  of  Walter  March  came  to  take 
a  military  turn  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  was  the 
unbounded  admiration  he  felt  for  Major  Fontenoy.  It 
was  during  my  sixteenth  year  that  the  candidate  to  re- 


WILD     OATS.  175 

present  our  newly  formed  State  in  Congress  proposed  to 
Mrs.  March  to  send  me  to  West  Point.  This  gentleman 
seemed  so  delighted  with  his  elevation,  that  like  the  clown 
in  the  farce,  he  stood  ready  to  marry  all  the  widows,  and 
father  all  the  children  amongst  his  constituents.  In  fact 
this  virtuous  politician  gave  out  significantly — before 
election — that  his  reign  should  be  known  as  the  para 
disaical  period  for  such  poor  folk  ;  that  Widow  March's 
son  should  go  to  West  Point,  and  the  son  of  another 
widow  should  have  a  midshipman's  warrant ;  he  would 
fill  the  post-office  with  indigent  blind  persons,  and  the 
custom-house  with  deaf  and  dumb.  Our  worthy  friend 
and  patron  had  lately  visited  the  East,  where  he  had 
been  conspicuous  in  the  assemblages  of  public  philan 
thropists. 

My  application  was  drawn  up  in  due  form  by  Major 
Fontenoy,  himself  a  military  graduate.  The  newly 
elected  member,  Hon.  Oliver  Hazzard  Perry  Hustings, 
took  the  paper  with  many  recommendations  accompany 
ing  it,  to  the  seat  of  government.  We  heard  no  more 
of  the  matter  until  the  return  of  Mr.  Hustings,  who  told 
us  with  evident  pain  he  had  not  been  able  to  secure  the 
appointment,  but  that  had  the  application  been  for  a 
midshipman's  berth  he  could  have  got  it.  My  friend 
the  navy  candidate,  however,  fared  no  better.  Mr. 
Hustings  told  him  it  was  a  pity  he  had  not  applied  for 
West  Point ! 

In  a  short  time  we  learned  that  the  benevolent  and 


176  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

disinterested  statesman  had  appointed  the  sons  of  two 
political  friends. 

It  was   then  that  M.   Latrobe   offered  to  take  the 
matter  in  hand. 


THE     J  U  M  P  8  E  8  .  177 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    JU3IPSES. 

"  BLESS  my  stars !"  exclaimed  Bowes,  rubbing  her 
hands  on  her  clean  apron.  "  If  there  ain't  farmer 
Jumps  !  and  Joram  !  just  as  sure  as  I'm  a  livin  woman !" 
Bowes  always  did  delight  in  strong  expressions.  The 
two  worthies  were  seen  walking  up  the  lawn  carrying 
each  a  basket,  and  between  them  a  seal-skin  covered 
trunk.  Their  persons  were  adorned  with  new  garments, 
evidently  meant  to  serve  as  fashion  plates  by  the  village 
tailor. 

Since  last,  we  made  mention  of  the  worthy  farmer, 
philosophizing  with  Guilford  in  front  of  his  cabin  and 
giving  utterance  to  country  complainings,  time  had  not 
dealt  churlishly  with  him.  He  had  now  a  less  care 
worn  expression  of  countenance,  a  freer  air,  and  was 
more  portly  in  person — in  short  was  a  justice  of  the 
peace  for  the  township  of  Green  Run. 

"  Wall,  Widow  March  " — he  always  reminded  my 
mother  of  her  widowhood  in  the  manner  of  those  who 
call  you  Squire,  or  Major,  as  aware  of  your  dignity. 

"  How  de  dew  ?" 

The  Messers  Jumps  senior  and  junior  were  cordially 

8* 


178  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

shaken  by  the  hand,  and  invited  of  course  into  the 
library.  Mr.  Joram  Jumps  sat  down  charily,  with  but 
the  edge  of  his  person  on  the  corner  of  the  lounge, 
while  Mr.  Jumps  senior  made  himself  quite  easy  and 
comfortable  at  once  in  the  arm-chair — as  any  squire 
should.  Trunk  and  baskets  were  left  in  the  hall.  Re 
assured  by  his  father's  confidence  of  manner,  Joram 
gradually  gained  ground  on  the  lounge,  till  he  felt  him 
self  sufficiently  secure  to  lean  back,  as  imitative  of  his 
father  as  the  back  of  the  lounge  permitted. 

"Picture  of  the  old  man,  s'pose?"  said  Squire  Jumps, 
pointing  towards  the  portrait  of  Mr.  March. 

Joram  cast  two  pencils  of  what  little  light  was 
reflected  from  his  diminutive  eyes  upward  towards  the 
picture,  without  presuming,  however,  to  turn  up  his 
face  sufficiently  for  a  full  view. 

Those  eyes ! 

They  were  set  a  league  back  in  Joram's  head. 

But  that  nose  ! 

Picture  to  yourself  the  least  possible  bit  of  red  flesh 
turned  up,  and  overlapped,  as  one  may  say,  by  two  round, 
prominent  cheeks,  so  as  to  throw  the  cut-water  of  this 
noble  human  bark  back  between  the  bows. 

But  eyes  and  nose  together  ! 

Fancy  a  railway  tunnel.  Through  the  long  conical 
vista,  behold  an  object — that  nose — yet  doubting  whe 
ther  you  actually  see  anything  but  two  lights  above — 
those  eyes. 

In  fact,  it  seems  as  if  the  good  old  fairy  lady  who 


THE     JUMP8E8.  179 

presided  over  Joram's  face,  was  a  capricious  painter — 
capricious  even  for  a  painter,  nay,  even  for  a  woman — 
and  had  drawn  that  part  of  the  picture  intended  for  the 
foreground  of  this  human  form  divine,  all  perspective. 
Nature  and  true  art  always  go  together ;  and  Joram's 
shirt-maker  had  heightened  the  view  of  this  perspective 
by  the  altitude  of  the  advanced  points  of  Joram's  collar, 
which  was  starched  stiff  withal,  and  held  Joram's  jaws 
so  straight  to  the  front,  and  his  neck  so  immovably 
erect,  that  you  wondered  whether  Jorain  was  not 
afflicted  with  one  of  Job's  comforters  on  the  neck. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  little  garden  sarse,  Widow 
March,  not  knowing  how's  you  mightn't  be  pestered  in 
the  city  to  get  fresh  vegetables." 

Joram,  by  a  stupendous  effort,  turned  his  erect  person 
towards  the  open  hall-door,  through  which  the  baskets 
were  visible,  and  caught  an  indistinct  view,  I  dare  say, 
of  the  edge  of  the  greater  basket. 

"  You  are  very,  very  good,  Mr.  Jumps." 

"  Folks  always  calls  him  squire  to  home !"  was  heard 
from  the  far  end  of  the  rail w ay  tunnel,  in  a  nasal  twang. 

"  Keep  your  peace,  Joram !"  sternly  ordered  his 
indignant  sire. 

"  Wall,  as  you're  justice  peace,  s'pose  I  must."  These 
sounds,  I  must  not  forget  to  say,  issued  from  the  tunnel ; 
but  Joram's  cheeks,  and  chin,  and  collar,  were  as 
immovable  as  the  rock  through  which  railway  tunnels 
are  usually  pierced. 

"  My  hopeful  son  there,"  Mr.  Jumps  went  on  to  6ay, 


180  SHOEPAC     EECOLLECTION8. 

without  deigning  to  notice  the  witticism  just  perpe 
trated — "  my  hopeful  son  there  thinks  he  must  have  an 
education.  "Wall,  the  course  adopted  by  my^  father  in 
Vairmont  was  just  to  let  common  sense  do  the  business, 
for  he  always  thought  common  sense  the  chief  end  of 
life,  especially  on  a  farm.  Then  says  I  to  Joram,  says 
I,  '  I'm  your  natural-born  father,  I  believe,'  says  I,  and 
Mrs.  Jumps  she  nodded  her  head,  '  and  I'm  not  goin'  to 
be  stingy  with  you,  and  spoil  your  education,  just 
'cause  your  gran'daddy  spoilt  your  daddy's.  So  just 
adopt  your  course.  What  is  it  ?  Speak  up  like  a  man.' 

"  '  Then,'  says  Joram,  says  he,  '  I've  been  thinking 
ever  since  that  ere  Guilford  March  was  out  here,  and 
Suz  she  thinks  so  too,  that  an  educated  man  knows  more 
than  an  uneducated  man !' 

"  '  Hain't  got  any  more  common  sense,  Joe,'  says  I. 

"  '  "Wall,'  says  he  '  Guilford  knew  more  than  all  on  us 
put  together,  except  you  and  mam.  Then  thinks  I  to 
myself,'  says  Joram,  says  he,  '  there  ain't  no  use  of  edu 
cation  unless  in  the  learned  professions.  And  that's  the 
reason  why  I  have  wanted  to  be  a  minister  ever  since 
that  ere  March  boy  came  out  here.' 

"  I  tried  a  long  time  to  beat  this  notion  out  of  Joram's 
head,  for  I  thought  he  never  would  make  a  minister 
worth  going  to  hear.  Still  I  was  willing  to  give  the  crit- 
tur  an  education  to  make  a  man  of  him,  but — • 

" '  It  won't  be  any  use  on  a  farm,'  "  says  Joram,  says  he. 

"  '  Why  not  ?'  says  I. 

" '  Cause  it  didn't  do  Guilford  March  any  good,  and  I 


THE     JTJMPSES.  181 

kinder  guess  on  the   contrary  it  made  him  sick   of 
farming.' ' 

"  Did  too !  true  as  preachin,"  issued  from  the  tun 
nel. 

"  Wall  now,  Widow  March,  I've  brought  him  in  to  see 
what  can  be  done,  and  all  I  ask  of  you  is  just  to  adopt  a 
course." 

"  Please  explain  yourself,  Mr.  Jumps — Squire  Jumps  I 
mean,"  said  my  mother,  looking  apologetically  at  Joram. 

"  Yes  inarm !"  said  the  immovable  centre  of  the 
picture. 

"  Wall  mam,  if  you  can  take  this  ere  boy  of  mine  " — 
the  "  boy  "  was  six  feet  tall  and  twenty-two  years  old — 
"  if  you  can  take  this  ere  boy,"  he  repeated,  "  do  his 
boardin,  lodgin,  and  washin,  and  ironin,  and  mendin,  and 
send  him  to  Doctor  Oliphant's  school,  I'll  do  what's 
right." 

"  To  tell  you  the  only  trouble  in  the  matter,"  replied 
my  mother,  "  I've  no  room  to  give  your  son." 

"  Sleep  with  the  boys,  thick  as  three  in  a  bed,  don't 
care  a  darn,  by  Golden  !" 

The  canvas  of  the  picture  shook  a  little  as  these 
sounds  were  emitted  from  the  vanishing  point  of  rays. 

At  this  stage  of  the  negotiation,  Guilford  came  in  for 
his  dinner,  and  he  and  I  readily  agreed  with  my  mother 
that  a  new  bedstead  might  be  set  up  in  our  room  for 
Joram  Jumps. 

"  Wall,"  says  the  good  farmer,  rising,  "  now  mam 
adopt  your  course.  Say  what  is  it  ?" 


182  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  "What  is  what,  Mr.  Jura — I  mean  Squire  Jumps  ft" 
Mrs.  March  did  not  venture  to  glance  at  Joram.     The 
tunnel   was   regarding    the    lady,   however,   and    said 
solemnly  again  : 
"  Yes  marm !" 

"Why,  say  how  much  you  ask, 'mam,  set  your  own 
price  ;  so  it  'taint  onreasonable  I'm  ready  to  adopt " — 

"  Oh !  as  for  that  matter,  Squire  Jumps  " — the  little 
lamps  seen  through  the  tunnel  twinkled — "  the  terms 
shall  be  the  regular  price." 

"Which  being  arranged  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  con 
cerned,  Squire  Jumps  arose  to  go.  My  mother  invited 
him  to  dine.  The  farmer  excused  himself  on  the  plea 
of  business. 

"  Stay  to  dinner,  dad !"  spoke  Joram  rather  eagerly 
for  a  picture. 

"  See  how  they  live.  "Want  my  money's  worth." 
The  old  gentleman  was  unchangeable,  however,  and 
Bowes  was  called  to  empty  the  baskets.  There  was 
quite  a  bill  of  fare.  To  wit :  A  turkey  nicely  dressed 
a  half  peck  of  meal  in  a  pillow  case,  three  quinces,  one 
squash,  twelve  apples,  a  tenderloin  of  fresh  pork,  three 
carrots,  a  string  of  silver-skinned  onions,  two  dozen  eggs, 
one  blood  beet,  a  little  coriander  seed  in  a  bit  of  muslin 
tied  up  with  pinkish  ribbons,  two  rolls  of  fresh  butter, 
and  a  little  kitten  from  Susannah  to  Mabel. 

"  I  came  into  town  in  the  cars  with  our  new  member," 
said  Mr.  Jumps  senior.  "  He  larfed  at  me  considerable 
about  these  two  baskets,  and  asked  me  if  I  wasn't  carry- 


THE     JUMPS  E  8.  183 

ing  my  dinner  into  town  ?     I  told  him  no ;  I  wasn't  a 
member  of  the  legislature." 

The  tunnel  now  laughed  outright,  suddenly  checking 
himself  and  coughed  like  a  locomotive  just  going  out  at 
the  far  end  of  the  perspective. 

Farmer  Jumps  had  kept  up  a  friendly  intercourse 
with  us,  ever  since  the  Guilford  affair,  concerning  which 
he  often  laughed  loudly. 

"  Your  mother's  the  woman  for  the  money,"  said 
Jumps.  "  She  knows  how  to  adopt  a  course.  Now  if 
she'd  said  '  no !'  and  kept  your  brother  back  from 
goin  onto  a  farm,  he'd  never  have  been  satisfied,  and 
might  at  last  have  run  away  and  gone  out  West,  and 
you  never  have  heard  more  on  him.  But  she  just  told 
me,  says  she, 

"'Don't  spare  my  son  a  little  labor,  Mr.  Jumps,  let 
him  have  his  heart's  content.  He  won't  bother  you 
long.' 

"'Trust  me  for  that,'  said  I,  catchin  her  idea  in  a 
second,  and  larfiii  ready  to  bust  myself.  '  Only  take 
care  on  his  health,'  says  she,  but  just  show  him  what 
farming  truly  is.' 

"  Now  that's  the  way  to  break  in  wild  colts. 

"  Now  my  two  boys  took  it  into  their  heads  there  was 
nothin  like  playin  cards.  So  I  just  shot  'em  up  in  the 
old  cabin — that  was  arter  we  moved  into  the  new  house 
— with  two  of  the  hands  to  work  on  the  farm,  and  sot 
'em  all  to  playin  high  low  jack  and  the  game,  or  what 
ever  they  liked.  Wall,  they  thought  it  fine  fun  for  a 


184  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTION'S. 

while,  but  by  and  by  grew  tired  and  wanted  to  come 
out.  '  But  no,  boys,'  says  I,  '  you  love  the  crittur — -just 
you  stay  where  you  are  till  you  are  satisfied.' 

"  I  guess  I  kept  'em  in  with  nothing  but  their  meals 
for  four  days  and  nights,  and  they  hain't  touched  a  card 
since." 

"Never  will !"  muttered  Joram  distantly. 

This  conversation  took  place  at  the  Jumpses,  when  I 
was  sent  there  to  rusticate  after  my  love  freak  with 
Dulcinea.  The  family  were  living  quite  comfortably  in 
a  new  house  built  of  hewn  logs.  The  neighborhood  was 
settled  more  thickly.  The  O'Gradys  had  been  driven 
out  by  the  intolerable  force  of  public  opinion,  the 
American  civilizer ;  the  school-house  was  standing  on 
the  road-side  at  a  mile's  distance  from  the  Jumps  estate, 
and  here  prayer  meetings  were  held  weekly,  and  school 
in  the  winter  time. 

Little  as  we  may  commend  the  reputation  of  rustic 
schools  in  that  country,  and  at  that  dim  twilight  period, 
this  we  may  say — the  prayer  meetings  were  unique, 
Far  be  it  from  us  to  speak  irreverently,  much  less  with 
ridicule,  of  those  private  assemblages  of  the  good.  The 
rude  attempts  at  religious  services  on  the  part  of  those 
benighted  pioneers,  may  perchance  bear  more  glorious 
testimony  at  the  judgment  seat  than  the  more  refined 
and  sumptuous  worship,  vacantly  and  with  wandering 
eyes,  conned  over  in  velvet  pews,  and  chanted  from  the 
throats  of  gilded  organs,  or  trilled  with  operatic  effect 
by  hired  musicians.  In  the  East,  good  honest  souls  are 


THE     JTJMP8E8.  185 

hired  to  mourn  for  the  dead.  Why  may  not  we  employ 
proxies  to  sing  for  the  living  ?  'Tis  doubtless  sweeter,  in 
the  ears  of  cherubim  and  seraphim  on  high,  to  hear 
the  well  tuned  voices  of  professional  sweet  singers,  than 
the  inharmonious  concourse  of  rude  utterances  from  a 
promiscuous  congregation  of  saints  and  sinners. 

Mew  me  my  good  pussy  cat.     Coo  me  my  soft  turtle 
dove — I'll  fain  do  my  own  roaring  in  the  streets. 

And  since  we  have  descended  to  the  animal  creation, 
it  behoves  us  to  speak  at  once  of  certain  young  crows? 
or  gentlemen  of  the  cloth,  as  they  are  softly  denominat 
ed,  from  a  certain  Theological  Seminary  not  many 
leagues  distant  from  that  State  in  our  grand  confederacy 
where  swine  are  wont  to  be  fed.  In  the  woods,  through 
which  they  disseminated  their  doctrines,  and  quartered 
themselves  on  the  simple  farmer  folk,  they  were  known 
as  perfectionists.  The  incumbent  of  the  Green  Run  circuit 
was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Milkwhite.  On  the  occasion  of  my 
attending  "  meeting  "  in  the  little  log  school-house  by 
the  road-side,  this  gentleman,  a  youthful  prophet,  sat 
behind  a  little  pine  table,  serving  the  purposes  of  pulpit 
and  desk,  with  his  eyes  of  milky  blue  raised,  or  rather 
voluminously  rolled,  up  to  the  ceiling.  It  was  after  the 
regular  morning  service — a  special  gathering  of  the 
Just,  making  or  already  made  perfect.  Here  sat  on  low 
wooden  benches  a  few  of  the  choice  spiritual  dames  and 
fathers  of  the  Church  Militant,  settled  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Green  Run.  As  it  did  not  seem  to  be  expected 
or  desired  that  sinners  would  be  present,  it  was  with  no 


186        8HOEPAC  RECOLLEC  TICKS. 

little  difficulty  I  had  prevailed  upon  Joram  and  Tobias 
to  remain  with.  me.  In  the  brief  interval  between  the 
two  meetings  they  pointed  out  the  parties  assembled, 
and  gave  me  their  names,  with  a  glimpse  here  and  there 
of  their  characters.  I  found  them  to  be  chiefly  the  ter 
magant  wives  and  hen-pecked  husbands  of  the  township, 
with  an  honest  exceptional  old  greyheaded  saint — ready 
to  worship  God  with  sheep  or  goat. 

To  my  own  discredit  be  it  acknowledged,  that  Walter 

*/  O  7 

March  was  there  from  motives  of  idle  curiosity. 

"  Brother  Pipelegs  will  lead  the  meeting  in  prayer," 
quoth  the  Rev.  Mr.  Milkwhite,  lowering  his  eyes 
towards  the  side  of  the  house  occupied  by  the  female 
benches,  but  raising  his  mortal  incumbrance  of  a  body, 
turning  with  a  heavenly  sigh,  and  kneeling  down  with 
much  devout  emotion — in  short,  a  groan. 

Brother  Pipelegs'  prayer  was  not  very  edifying.  He 
had  become  familiar  to  the  ears  of  the  neighborhood, 
at  Jumps's  and  elsewhere,  for  years.  But  he  was  fol 
lowed  by  young  Milkwhite  himself.  Oh  !  what  a  happy 
season  :  those  excited  hearts  leaped  for  joy  ;  their  joy 
ful  groans,  their  shouts  of  Hosannah !  Amen !  come 
Quickly  !  Jordan  !  and  Canaan !  were  heard  far  through 
the  green  old  cloistered  woods.  Yet  I,  who  had  not 
long  since  passed  through  some  excitement — not  such 
as  this,  however — in  a  religious  way,  God  forgive  my 
shortcomings — I  was  not  completely  overcome,  but 
wondered  at  the  manifest  discrepancy  between  natural 
cause  and  supernatural  eifect,  for  Mr.  Milkwhite  was 


THE     JUMPSES.  187 

not  in  my  worldly  eyes  an  exciting  young  man,  but  a 
feeble,  rather,  I  thought.  Be  that  as  it  might,  here  was 
the  emotion  of-  a  host  under  the  thunder  claps  of  a 
Wickliffe. 

Amid  the  rapid  rustling  of  palm  leaf  and  turkey  tail 
fans,  a  hymn  was  then  sung  to  the  tune  of  Peter  Street, 
for  the  refreshment  of  those  devotees. 

Rev.  Mr.  Milkwhite's  eyes  were  no  longer  on  the 
ceiling.  Doubtless  the  dove  for  which  he  had  been 
looking  had  come  down.  And  that  dove,  it  appeared 
to  my  sinful  mind,  Mr.  Milkwhite  found  rustling  amid 
the  muslins  of  the  good  dames  before  him,  for  there 
were  his  eyes  now  also,  during  the  singing  of  one  of 
Watt's  beautiful  hymns. 

Brother  Peppergrass  was  then  called  on  for  a  prayer, 
and  the  meeting  knelt  again. 

Mrs.  Peppergrass  was  deeply  moved ;  her  sighs 
choked  into  gasps,  her  gasps  grew  into  sobs,  her  sobs 
fell  into  tears,  her  tears  dried  into  moans,  and  Mr.  Milk- 
white  noiselessly  arose  to  comfort  the  afflicted  dame. 
He  knelt  down  by  her  side  and  softly  placed  his  arm 
around  that  buxom  waist,  while  with  the  hand  of  the 
other  arm  he  tenderly  brought  the  cheek  of  Mrs.  Pep 
pergrass  on  his  own  shoulder.  In  this  heart-moving, 
this  comforting  position,  he  gently  consoled  the  afflicted 
Mi's.  Peppergrass  with  the  words  of  hope  and  joy,  till 
Mr.  Peppergrass  ceased  praying. 

"Will  Brother  Dandelamb  pray?" 

Mrs.  Dandelarnb   now  fell  into   a   similar  state  of 


188  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

tribulation,  to  that  lately  betrayed  by  the  now  calm 
Mrs.  Peppergrass,  and  Mr.  Milkwhite  vouchsafed  a  no 
less  touching  condolence. 

"  The  meeting  will  now,"  he  said,  as  Mr.  Dandelamb 
closed  his  hearty,  honest,  simple  appeal,  "  the  meeting 
will  now  have  a  season  of  silent  prayer." 

And  the  benevolent  Mr.  Milkwhite  moved  like  an 
angel  of  mercy  from  man  to  man,  and  from  woman  to 
woman,  to  comfort  and  relieve  the  o'erfraught  heart. 
How  gently  he  laid  his  hand — a  hand  of  pearl — on  the 
shoulder  of  each  distressed  brother !  How  tenderly 
he  communed  closely,  face  against  face,  with  each 
sad  sister!  A  chapter  in  the  New  Testament  was 
then  read.  The  attention  given  would  be  a  mild 
reproach  to  any  city  auditory,  it  was  almost  breath 
less — except  from  the-apalm  leaf  and  turkey  tail  fans. 

At  length  the  reader,  with  much  emphasis,  came  to 
the  words — "Be  ye  perfect."  No  sooner  was  "perfect" 
uttered,  than  prone  upon  the  floor  fell  three  sisters  and 
one  brother,  and  so  far  as  I  could  see,  they  were  all  in  a 
swoon.  There  was  some  slight  spasmodic  action  here 
and  there,  but  in  another  moment,  they  all  four  lay  pale 
and  motionless. 

To  my  astonishment,  this  did  not  frighten  Mr.  Milk- 
white. 

"  Where,"  said  I  resentfully  to  myself,  "  where  now 
that  tender  care  which,  when  the  bodies  of  these  simple 
people  could  sustain  themselves,  was  too  freely  granted  ? 
Oh!  Milkwhite!" 


THE      JUMPSES.  189 

I  then  whispered  to  Joram,  "  Why  in  the  world  don't 
they  do  something  for  the  poor  creatures?" 

Alas !  Joram's  ears  seemed  buried  beneath  his  shirt 
collar ;  his  eyes  fixed  reverentially  on  the  milky  azure 
eyes  before  him. 

"  Toby !"  I  shouted  in  that  young  gentleman's  ears ; 
"  will  none  of  them  move  ?  Shall  we  let  them  die  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  'power,'  "  whispered  Tobias. 

J  moved  forward  myself,  towards  the  nearest  body. 
J3oth  Joram  and  Toby  held  me  back.  There  they  lay, 
extended  in  syncope  during  the  rest  of  the  chapter, 
during  another  prayer  from  Mr.  Milkwhite,  a  concluding 
hymn  and  the  benediction.  We  went  away  and  left 
them  still  lying  there,  stiff,  white  and  motionless. 

Toby  told  me,  after  leaving  the  little  log  temple,  that 
the  four  persons  who  had  fallen  before  our  eyes,  were 
thought  to  have  arrived  at  the  coveted  state  of  perfec 
tion.  The  proof  of  this  consisted  in  their  trances.  The 
stout  Mr.  Pipelegs,  and  the  gaunt,  sharp-visaged  Mrs. 
Peppergrass  no  sooner  heard  the  sound  of  certain 
charmed  words,  such  as  Perfection  and  Holy  Spirit, 
than  away  they  swooned.  Mr.  Peppergrass  at  the 
plough,  or  Mrs.  Peppergrass  at  the  churn,  would  sink 
down  at  no  further  notice,  and  remain  insensible  for  an 
hour. 

On  our  way  homeward,  that  still  sweet  Sabbath 
evening,  feeling  that  Nature  had  been  violated,  and 
God  profaned  in  the  solemn  courts  of  the  pure  wilder 
ness,  I  said  to  Joram — • 


190  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Yon  are  very  affectionate  in  these  parts !  Do  all 
ministers  embrace  the  good  sisters  of  the  church  in  this 
wise  ?" 

"  Don't  call  that  anything,  do  ye  ?" 

"  "Why  at  home  you  may  kiss  a  French  damsel,  or 
madame — on  New  Year's  day — but  this  sort  of  thing, 
you  know  " 

"  Brotherly  love,"  quoth  the  walking  tunnel-picture 
at  my  side. 

"  But  I  wouldn't  bear  it !  Do  you  intend  to  marry  a 
wife  here,  and  permit  such  liberties  ?" 

"  No  !     I  intend  to  be  a  minister  myself  1" 


MABEL      ANDJORAM. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

MABEL   AND   JORAM. 

MABEL  LATROBE!  the  cricket  on  our  hearth,  the 
canary-bird  of  the  house,  our  bright  little  star-flower. 
Maude  was  the  fringed  gentian  of  the  prairie,  sometimes 
our  lily  of  the  valley.  In  what  colors  may  I  paint 
thee,  Mabel !  my  life's  darling ! 

Every  artist  knows  how  difficult  it  is  to  take  the  likeness 
of  a  child,  and  it  seems  as  though  Mabel  always  was  a 
child,  and  ever  will  be  a  child.  And  I  fear  lest  the 
patient  reader  of  these  leaflets  of  memory  grow  tired 
of  child  history.  O  !  reader,  companion  of  my  journey 
so  far  up  the  hill  of  life,  dost  thou  weary  of  the  tender 
growths  of  plant,  and  tree,  and  grassy  violet  bank? 
Seekest  thou  impatiently  the  dark  pine  and  rocky  crag 
alone  ?  Bear  with  me,  gentle  sir,  a  little  while,  ere  we 
depart  from  the  sweet  scenes  of  childhood.  One  look 
more  at  the  village  green  over  which  you  tripped  to 

school  and  sanctury  in  days  when well,  no  matter ; 

but  look  at  that  little  locket,  and  those  scraps  of  old 
notes  treasured  away,  and  sigh  with  me  o'er  boyhood 
and  your  own  Mabel  Latrobe. 

Such  a  medley  of   folly  and   wisdom,   vanity    and 


192  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

modesty,  smartness  and  uncommon  sense,  tenderness 
and  ridicule,  sympathy  and  irony,  such  a  little  deter 
mined  coquette  of  a  creature  never  sat  beside  me  on  a 
fair  summer's  day. 

"  Ah,  Walter,  you  are  slandering  me  ungallantly," 
she  exclaims  now,  as  I  read  her  the  above  sentence  in 
manuscript. 

"  Sweet  Mabel,  every  lady  is  at  heart  a  little  bit  of  a 
coquette — and  you  cannot  deny  it." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  gentlemen,  you  shabby 
old  fellow?" 

"  Do  not  bother  me  over  my  story,  dear  Mabel." 

I  scarcely  know  whether  Mabel  was  beautiful  or  not. 
I  never  saw  anything  but  her  eyes,  so  soft !  and  yet  a 
most  enchanting  wildness — as  if  the  spirit  of  her 
Indian  grandmother  had  come  from  the  grand  old 
woods  and  cataracts,  and  the  broad,  free,  and  beautiful 
prairies,  and  asserted  her  spiritual  supremacy  over 
Mabel's  cultivated  nature. 

"Walter,  you  are  a  prozy  old  dreamer." 

"Beshrew  me  !  Mabel,  sweet,  what  is  the  memory  of 
early  dreams  but  the  spiritual  presence  of  better  things 
in  a  material  after  life  ?" 

"  Go  on  !  go  on !  you  are  so  dull." 

Mabel  knew  everything  as  if  by  instinct.  She  read 
everybody  as  if  by  necromancy  or  astrology.  Yet 
although  she  knew  so  much,  and  read  so  many,  every 
body  loved  Mabel.  One  said  she  was  so  queer,  another 
thought  her  funny.  It  was  universally  acknowledged 


MABEL      AND     JORAM.  193 

that  Mabel  could  keep  a  secret,  and  this  gave  her  a 
world  of  confidants,  so  that  she  knew  everybody's 
secrets,  my  own,  always,  of  course.  Yet  Mabel  was 
pure  in  heart,  and  she  loved  everything  really  pure  and 
beautiful,  with  a  perfect  love,  a  vehement  love,  a  love 
that  made  her  happy,  a  love  that  knit  her  to  me  for  ever. 

But  then,  how  Mabel  would  ridicule  everybody  and 
everything.  "No  one  knew  it  except  we  at  home.  In 
truth,  nobody  knew  Mabel  at  all.  No  one  thought  that 
such  a  quiet  child  could  be  the  life  of  the  house :  no 
one  dreamed  that  she  chirped  and  sang  from  daylight 
to  midnight :  no  one  knew  that  she  could  dance  on  her 
tip-toes,  jump  over  chairs  and  a- top  of  tables,  and  per 
form  all  the  tricks  of  the  gymnasium. 

So  you  perceive  what  a  nondescript  I  have  to 
describe,  for  nobody .  either  knew  anything  or  would 
believe  anything  about  her.'  They  thought  her  prudent, 
believed  in  her,  confided  in  her,  trusted  in  her,  and  she 
was  true  to  them  all,  and  laughed  at  them  all,  and  loved 
them  all — but  alas!  not  as  all  would  have  her  love 
them! 

Thus  she  grew  up  a  little  charming  Sphinx,  a  riddle 
to  us  all,  and  a  fairy  delight.  Mabel  was  quite 
independent  in  her  notions ;  neither  Maud  nor  even  her 
father  could  judge  for  her,  and  she  believed  in  them  to 
the  skies,  too;  yet  she  had  a  sharp,  joyous,  innocent 
way  of  seeing  and  judging  for  herself,  that,  I  must 
confess,  though  her  conclusions  were  often  at  war  with 
my  own,  amused  me  beyond  measure. 

9 


194  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

I  wish  I  could  have  reduced  Mabel  to  a  sober,  steady 
love  for  me.  She  was  as  capricious  as  any  weather 
cock.  She  would  have  her  little  flirtations  with  her 
eyes — that's  as  far  as  Mabel  ever  went  in  that  quarter 
of  female  frailty — so  that  her  eyes  were  quite  celebrated 
all  over  the  city.  The  awkward  country  student,  the 
pale  young  Presbyterian  divine,  with  lemon-colored 
hair,  the  licentiate  at  the  Catholic  Presbytery,  with  dark 
eyes,  the  shabby  genteel  lawyer,  the  dandified  young 
dry-goods'  man,  the  queer  old  bachelor  judge,  the 
youngest  boy  and  the  last  beau  from  the  East — each 
vowed  there  was  a  peculiar  meaning  in  Mabel's  eyes 
which  he  alone  knew  how  to  solve — the  deluded  self- 
flatterers,  as  if  /did  not  know  who  alone  Mabel  Latrobe 
deeply  loved,  notwithstanding  her  caprices  and  shy 
flirtations. 

Joram  Jumps  had  not  been  at  Mrs.  March's  house  a 
week,  ere  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  her  eyes ;  and  Joram 
was  as  confident  of  his  power  of  pleasing  and  of  his 
conquest  over  Mabel,  as  young  gentlemen  frequently 
are  who  have  had  but  little  intercourse  with  the  sex. 

Joram  Jumps  was  a  source  of  endless  fun  to  Mabel, 
although  to  save  her  very  life,  she  could  not  help  using 
her  conquering  eyes  on  the  tall,  green  sapling.  She 
would  mimic  him  to  the  life — though  of  course  not  so 
rude  as  do  -this  before  his  face.  Mabel  never  wounded 
the  feelings  of  a  dear  creature  in  the  world.  The  sly  mis 
chief  would  set  all  sorts  of  little  traps  into  which  Joram 
would  fall,  and  the  catastrophe  appear  so  very  like  acci- 


MABEL     AND     JOBAM.  195 

dent  that  Joram  never  suspected  any  one,  and  least  of 
all  the  quiet  little  tender-eyed  Mabel. 

Joram  often  stumbled  over  objects  in  the  dark  hall 
going  to  bed,  when  the  lights  were  all  extinguished, 
accidentally,  of  course.  Joram  sometimes  complained 
that  Mrs.  Bowes  had  made  his  bed  in  a  very  uncommon 
manner.  Joram  found  notes  in  the  post-office  from 
young  damsels  dying  for  him.  But  Joram  always 
brought  these  soft  missives  straight  to  Mabel,  and  to 
please  her  in  a  delicate  way,  would  cut  them  to  pieces 
with  his  jack-knife  and  throw  them  on  the  fire  in  her 
presence.  He  never  to  this  day  has  suspected  Mabel 
Latrobe  of  all  the  flattering  attentions  bestowed  upon 
him  from  such  diverse  quarters. 

Joram  was  not  destitute  of  natural  ability.  He  pro 
gressed  rapidly  at  Dr.  Oliphant's,  but  now  his  studies 
begin  to  flag.  In  truth,  Joram  is  in  love.  Mabel  sees 
it,  we  all  know  it,  and  Mabel  is  the  only  one  that  does 
not  seem  to  enjoy  it  after  all.  Mabel  grows  grave,  alas, 
has  she  lost  her  heart  likewise  ?  No,  Mabel  is  really  too 
good  to  enjoy  any  one's  misery,  and  Jorarn  is  evidently 
in  tribulation.  Yet  the  son  of  stout  Farmer  Jumps  is 
no  weak  dangler,  no  persecuting  step-slave.  Joram  is 
independent  in  his  feelings. 

On  one  evening,  seeing  Mabel  alone  in  the  library 
after  tea,  he  glided  in,  and  seated  himself  stiffly.  He 
closed  his  hands  on  his  lap  devoutly,  and  then  folded 
his  arms  across  his  breast  thoughtfully,  and  then  clasped 
his  hands  behind  his  head  boldly,  and  then  coughed  a 
short,  embarrassed,  starting  cough,  as  if  not  sure  the 


196  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

train  would  follow  ;  the  little  lamps  shone  in  the  far  end 
of  the  tunnel  with  uncommon  briskness. 

"  Miss  Latrobe !"  at  length  he  said,  bending  a  trifle 
the  stiff  shirt  collar  011  the  side  towards  that  demure 
young  lady.  "  Have  the  pleasure  spending  this  evening 
with  you  alone  ?" 

Miss  Latrobe  was  fairly  frightened  to  death.  Then 
she  thought  she  would  comply,  merely  to  see  what  this 
oddity  would  say  and  do.  But  she  was  a  very  coward 
in  all  but  eye  skirmishing.  The  onset  she  dreaded — in 
fact  she  had  never  thought  over  such  foolish  things. 
And  so  Miss  Latrobe  vouchsafed,  after  a  little  hesitation, 
during  which  Joram  Jumps  sat  on  pins  and  needles, 
without  moving  a  muscle — the  following  reply : 

"  I  came  in  for  a  moment  only,  Mr.  Joram,  and  am 
waiting  for  Miss  Maud.  I — I — have  a  little  engage 
ment  with  her  for  this  evening." 

Mabel !  Mabel !  what  a  fib !  Her  very  hesitation 
and  confusion  betrayed  it. 

During  the  reply  to  his  important  and  delicate  request, 
Joram  changed  his  hands  uneasily,  and  drew  out  his 
handkerchief  with  abstraction,  and  on  the  conclusion 
of  Mabel's  reply,  he  arose,  faced  squarely  about, 
stalked  to  the  door,  faced  about  again,  looked  from 
afar  towards  his  poor  little  frightened  enemy,  and  as  he 
gave  a  petulant  flirt  with  his  handkerchief,  exclaimed — • 

•l  Don't  care  a  darn,  by  Golden !" 

Then  the  centre  of  the  picture  vanished  from  the 
landscape. 


A     DENOUEMENT.  197 


CHAPTEK    XX. 

A    DENOUEMENT. 

KEADEK,  had  you  ever  a  friend  for  whom  you  felt  a 
degree  of  responsibility  "  in  certain  circles?"  If  so  was 
not  your  friend  sure  to  commit  all  his  faux  pas,  say  all 
his  silliest  things,  do  his  most  awkward  and  extraordi 
nary  deeds  in  that  very  "  certain  circle  ?" 

Major  Fontenoy  was  always  my  beau  ideal  of  the 
gentleman.  The  point  was  disputed  by  Mabel,  who 
preferred  Allen,  and  by  Guilford,  who  was  too  matter- 
of-fact  to  enjoy  the  Major's  sentimentality. 

Even  Maud  smiled  at  him.  "Walter  felt  responsible 
for  his  friend,  and  thought  the  apparent  excess  of  senti 
ment,  nothing  worse  than  a  flowering  of  the  Major's 
exquisite  nature. 

"  ]STor,"  said  I,  "  is  he  sentimental  on  all  occasions ;  it 
is  here,  in  this  house,  beneath  the  eyes  of  Maud  March, 
that  my  dear  old  friend  appears  to  so  poor  advantage." 

But  with  all  reasonings  and  all  efforts  on  my  part,  the 
good  Major  never  seemed  to  do  himself  justice  at  Lilac 
Cottage.  In  all  other  places  the  gallant  soldier  cap 
tivated  right  and  left. 

"We  were  sitting  one  evening  after  a  summer  rain, 


198  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

upon  the  porch,  enjoying  the  fresh  fragrance  of  the 
earth,  and  the  awakened  perfume  of  the  flowers,  when 
Major  Fontenoy  came  up  the  lawn.  He  advanced 
towards  us  in  a  sprightly  manner — a  little  too  sprightly 
for  his  years — the  hypercritical  Mabel  thought.  Thk 
peculiarity  was  noticed  afar. 

"See!"  said  Guilford,  smiling,  "1  suppose  Walter 
would  term  that,  '  graceful  motion.' ' 

"  No,"  replied  Walter  "  the  major  never  will  be 
graceful,  or  in  any  way  himself,  when  Maud  is  within 
view." 

I  went  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  How  lovely  the  evening  after  a  shower,  hey  !"  said 
my  friend,  as  he  drew  near  the  ladies,  and  lifted  his  cap 
handsomely. 

"  Yes,  major,"  replied  Mrs.  March,  "  will  you  walk  up 
and  join  us  ?  we  are  all  out  enjoying  the  freshness." 

"  It  is  as  sweet,'7  he  said  taking  a  seat,  "  as  the  breath 
of  cattle  on  the  lea,  hey  Walter?  your  friend  old 
Brindle,  hey !" 

The  breath  of  cattle  is  charming,  yet  altogether  the 
comparison  did  not  quite  suit — some  people  are  so  fas 
tidious.  I  warmly  replied,  "  Yes  sir,"  with  a  smile  of 
appreciation. 

"  What  has  the  fair  lady  Maud  been  doing  to-day  ? 
Sitting  in  her  bower,  hey  !" 

"  Yes,  major,  if  by  bower  you  mean  my  school." 

Maud  was  innocent  of  offence,  yet  the  major  blushed, 
seeing  how  inapropos  was  this  second  comparison. 


A     DENOUEMENT.  199 

"Temple,  I  might  say  with  more  propriety,  hey! 
sweet  goddess,  hey !" 

"  No,  no  !"  said  Maud  laughing,  "  I  should  rather  say 
plain  old  school-house." 

She  stepped  down  the  porch,  plucked  a  sweet  pea 
blossom,  and  handed  it  to  Major  Fontenoy. 

The  old  gentleman  joined  the  laugh,  with  his  heart 
full  of  simple  ready  glee.  Then  he  grew  silent.  It  was 
only  in  Maud's  presence  the  agreeable  talker  ever  was 
silent. 

Guilford  then  spoke  of  meeting  a  soldier  of  the  garri 
son,  who  told  him  slily  he  had  got  on  the  sick  list  by 
playing  old  soldier  with  the  surgeon,  and  came  down  in 
town  to  have  his  fun. 

The  major  had  an  anecdote  ready  in  a  moment. 

"  Of  course  you  all  remember  Surgeon  Prim,  stationed 
here  a  few  years  ago,  hey !  "Well,  a  soldier  came  into 
the  dispensary  one  morning  with  his  tongue  whitened 
with  chalk,  hey.  Doctor  asked  him  what's  the  matter  ? 
'  Fever,  sir,'  hey !  touching  his  hat,  hey !  '  How  do 
you  know  that?'  'Felt  of  my  pulse,'  hey?  'Felt  of 
your  own  pulse,  sir !'  thundered  out  the  doctor,  hey ! 
'  How  dare  you  feel  you  own  pulse  ?  Let  me  see 
your  tongue,'  hey !  The  man  showed  his  tongue ; 
'  Much  coated,  much  coated,'  said  the  doctor,  hey ! 
Then  he  drew  a  little  of  the  whitening  on  the  end  of  his 
knife-blade,  dropped  a  drop  of  acid — fumed  like  slack 
ing  lime,  hey?  The  doctor  caught  the  man  by  the 
throat,  heigh !  and  thrust  him  out  of  the  office,  hey ! 


200  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

saying,  '  Yoa  are  a  rascal,  hey !  you  feel  of  your  own 
pulse,  hey !  and  coat  your  own  tongue  too,  hey !  get 
out  of  my  office,  hey !' ' 

No  one  could  resist  one  of  the  major's  stories,  his  own 
excitement  and  drollery  seemed  to  make  the  dullest 
story  good.  He  never  put  "  hey !"  after  a  real  inquiry, 
and  that  made  it  appear  the  more  ludicrous. 

Of  course  we  all  laughed ;  Mabel,  as  was  her  wont 
on  all  such  occasions,  fairly  shouted. 

The  conversation  turned  next  on  books.  The  major 
was  a  great  reader.  He  kept  us  supplied  with  the 
latest  works.  On  the  whole,  what  with  his  books  and 
his  beautiful  cameos,  that  payment  affair,  his  flowers 
and  his  fun,  we  all  loved  the  major — though  in  different 
degrees,  and  for  various  reasons. 

"Does  Maud  love  the  major?"  Guilford  inquired  of 
me,  as  we  went  around  the  outside  of  the  house  towards 
the  barn,  for  a  look  at  Brindle's  calf. 

"  Why  do  you  inquire  of  me?" 

"  Oh,  you  are  something  of  a  connoisseur  in  love 
matters;  'Dulcinea,'  you  know!" 

"  Oh !  ahem,  yes ;  I  don't  think  the  major  has  asked 
her." 

"  Then  why  so  many  costly  gifts  ?" 

"Because  he  can't  help  it,  I  suppose/ 

"  But  why  does  Maud  take  them  ?" 

"  Why,  for  the  same  reason,  I  suppose." 

"  You  may  think  as  you  please,  Walter,  but  I  never 
did  quite  believe  in  these  purely  disinterested  Platonic 


A     DENOUEMENT.  201 

affairs.  Wherever  there's  so  much  smoke,  you  may  be 
sure  of  fire." 

"  He  think  of  getting  married !"  I  cried.  "  Non 
sense  !  his  one  hand,  an  old  bachelor,  at  least  forty-five. 
Nonsense !  nonsense !" 

"  I  hope  it  is  so,  that's  all.     Let's  go  in." 

Mrs.  March  had  retired  to  attend  to  household 
matters,  and  Mabel  had  gone  to  tell  Bowes  Major  Fon- 
tenoy's  last  story,  and  so  it  fell  out  on  that  fair,  fresh 
summer's  evening,  that  the  major  found  himself  alone 
with  Maud  March. 

They  rose  from  the  porch  and  walked  about  the 
flower  beds,  and  among  the  rose-bushes,  and  beneath 
the  lilac  trees,  and  the  leaves  and  flowers  all  around 
them  distilled  sweet  odors  as  they  passed. 

"  The  flowers  seem  to  know  you,  Miss  Maud,  hey  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  ought  to,  major ;  I  train  them,  you  know." 

"Yery  good,  hey?  very  good,  hey?"  I  dare  say 
you  train  them  even  to  talk,  too,  hey  ?" 

"  Certainly  !"  answered  Maud,  laughingly. 

"Then  Miss  Maud — dear  Maud  —  tell  me,  hey! 
what  you  would  have  this  sweet  pea  blossom  say  to 
Major  Fontenoy,  hey !" 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  my  sister  attributed  a 
feeling  to  the  poor  old  officer,  stronger  than  friendship. 
And  yet,  thought  she,  the  next  moment,  how  could  such 
a  thing  be  ?  Her  passion  of  self-depreciation  drove  out 
the  suspicion. 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake,"  thought  Maud. 


202  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  If  the  little  flower,"  she  now  hastened  to  say,  "  does 
not  speak  volumes  of  gratitude  for  my  mother,  and  love 
for  all  the  rest  of  us,  I'll  not  own  it  as  my  gift." 

They  now  stood  in  a  closely  shaded  part  of  the 
garden. 

"  Love,  Miss  Maud,  hey !  love,  hey !" 

"  Yes,"  faltered  she,  "such  love  as"  — 

The  major  dropped  upon  his  knees.  He  took  the 
listless  hand  of  the  young  lady  in  his  own,  and  while  he 
held  over  it  the  poor  maimed  arm,  he  poured  forth  his 
love. 

"  Love  me,  hey !  Love  me,  hey !  Behold  me  at 
your  feet,  delighted,  hey!" 

Maud  struggled  in  bewilderment. 

"  Beautiful !  lovely  !  angel !  Maud,  hey !  My  heart 
has  been  yours  for  years  !  long,  sweet  years,  hey !" 

"With  difficulty  the  afflicted  girl  wrested  her  hand 
away.  Covering  her  face  she  exclaimed — 

"  Oh !  Major  Fontenoy !  dear  old  friend,  this  is 
indeed  painful,  unexpected,  too  bad  !  too  bad !" 

Bursting  into  tears,  she  left  him,  and  hastened  into  the 
cottage. 

The  moon  looks  calmly  down.  It  shines  upon  the 
flower  that  has  closed  its  petals  since  the  god  of  day, 
its  life  and  light  are  gone.  It  reaches  through  the  leafy 
covering  where  the  bird  sleeps  securely  and  fondly  with 
its  loving  mate.  It  discloses  the  bare  stem  on  the  lilac 
tree,  where  spring  blossoms  have  fallen  off,  and  left  a 
withered  thing.  It  lights  up  the  dew-drops  hanging  on 


A     D  E  N  O  U  E  M  E  N  T  .  203 

the  point  of  a  thorn  projecting  from  a  beautiful  rose. 
It  sees  the  grass  covering  the  earth  where  hopes  lie 
buried. 

And  down  through  the  vista  of  the  lawn,  behold, 
shrinking  beneath  the  friendly  shade,  one  goeth  with  a 
maimed  hand  and  a  blighted  heart ! 

Alas,  Major  Fontenoj,  it  is  indeed  too  bad !  too 
bad! 


204  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTEK    XXI. 

MILLBROOK. 

OUR  path  towards  the  bush  went  by  a  beautiful  farm 
through  which  ran  a  winding  rivulet,  overlooked  by  a 
little  green  bank  near  the  roadside.  In  the  spring  time 
this  bank  was  carpeted  with  a  multitude  of  wild  flow 
ers,  dandelions,  aster  flowers,  violets,  and  anemones.  It 
was  canopied  overhead  by  the  profuse  branches  of  a 
grove  of  young  butternut  trees,  up  and  along  which 
the  fox  grape  climbed  and  trailed  its  vines,  forming  many 
a  graceful  festoon. 

Here  it  was  often  our  delight  to  pause  as  we  strolled 
out  on  pleasant  Sunday  afternoons  after  old  Brindle — 
Guilford  could  not  leave  his  business  on  week-days.  To 
sit  or  lie  here  on  the  grass  and  build  air-castles,  each  in 
his  own  way,  was  for  years  our  romance  and  delight. 

"  Come,  "Walter,"  said  Guilford  on  one  of  these 
memorable  times,  as  we  lay  extended  at  full  length, 
with  straw  hats  covering  our  faces  from  the  sun,  "  come ! 
let  your  kite  fly !" 

It  was  no  sooner  suggested,  than  Fancy  took  wing. 
Away  it  soared  into  regions  of  love,  religion  and  poetry, 
changing  almost  momentarily,  with  capricious  humor. 


MILLBROOK.  205 

"But,"  said  Guilford,  "come  down  a  little  from  the 
sixth  and  seventh  heavens  :  you  are  to  be  a  soldier." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  and  Fancy  took  a  fresh  start,  careered 
through  an  ideal  life,  as  little  like  probability  as  possi 
ble,  and  insensibly  gained  an  apex  on  some  pink  cloud, 
silver  trumpet  in  hand,  blowing  a  blast  of  mingled 
fame  and  philanthropy. 

Then  said  Guilford,  laughing  in  his  hearty,  pleasant 
way— 

"Walter!  Walter!  you  are  the  least  belligerent 
knight-errant  I  ever  knew !" 

"  Brother,"  replied  Walter,  "  I  would  draw  sword  to 
deliver  damsels,  conquer  Palestine,  or  overthrow  oppres 
sion  in  any  form." 

"  Dare  say !  dare  say !  but  by  herald  and  flag,  or 
rather  by  poem  or  metaphor !" 

"  I  hope,  Guilford,  you  don't  doubt  my  courage  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  do  doubt  your  common  sense." 

"  Common  sense !"  I  cried,  resentfully,  "  there  never 
was  a  good  cause,  or  mighty  achievement  yet,  but  had 
to  encounter  common  sense  as  its  enemy." 

"  Do  you  know  why  ?"  quoth  Guilford. 

"Tell  me  if  you  can." 

"  Because  common  sense  is  a  machinist,  genius  an 
inventor ;  common  sense  looks  to  the  means,  genius  to 
the  end." 

"  Yes,"  cried  I,  "  all  things  are  possible  to  genius,  all 
things  impossible  to  common  sense.  Your  common 
sense  is  born  with  a  '  no '  in  his  mouth." 


206  8HOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"There  is  something  in  that,  "Walter.  Genius  points 
the  way  to  common  sense.  Common  sense  clears  the 
way  for  genius." 

"  "Well,  well,  Guilford,  what  would  you  have  me 
think  of?  what  do?" 

"Tell  me  first  your  motives  in  seeking  "West  Point? 
"What  preparation  are  you  making?  How  much  mathe 
matics  have  you  got  in  your  genius  ?  Can  you  govern 
mea?  How  would  your  nerves  stand  fire?  Do  you 
think  your  soldiers  can  hear  you?  Jump  up  now  and 
give  a  command." 

"  Anything  to  please  common  sense,"  I  said,  rising. 

"  Shoulder  arms !" 

"Pretty  good,"  said  Guilford,  laughing;  "you've 
frightened  off  the  bobolink." 

"  Charge  bayonet !" 

"  Better  yet." 

"  By  regiment,  right  wheel !" 

"Yes,  yes,  'by  regiment;'  but  begin  by  squad  or 
platoon — a  long  time  before  you  will  command  higher." 

"  By  squad — by  squad 

"  Pshaw !"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  would  rather  wheel  the 
world  into  line  by  kingdoms  and  empires !" 

Guilford  roared  with  laughter,  and  said,  "begone, 
brave  army,  and  don't  kick  up  a  row !  Now  for  your 
views  on  the  subject  I  have  mentioned,  Cadet  Walter." 

The  Dreamer  was  silent. 

The  Doer  spoke. 

"The  chief  object,  the  great  demand  of  your  nature 


MILLBROOK.  207 

is  education.  West  Point  will  afford  this — so  far  as 
elementary  books  may  go.  Then,  I've  no  doubt  it  is 
your  honest  wish  to  do  all  the  good  you  can  in  the 
world — that  is,  provided  your  wild  oats  are  all  sown. 
Now  the  army,  it  appears  to  me,  affords  as  ready  a  field 
for  cultivation,  as  fruitful  a  soil  for  tillage,  as  any  other 
field  in  life." 

"  How  may  one  do  good  in  the  army,  pray  2" 

Monsieur  Common  Sense  went  on. 

"  By  example — the  silent  magnetism  of  life,  far  more 
powerful,  perhaps,  than  the  electric  shock  of  astonishing 
doctrines." 

"  I  must  confess,"  said  "Walter,  "  that  to  astonish 
would  not  be  disagreeable." 

"  Those  who  strive  to  astonish  the  world,  most  gene 
rally  succeed — that  is,  the  world  is  astonished  at  their 
folly!" 

"Walter  now  grew  weary  of  the  conversation.  His 
notions  of  philanthropy  were  rather  vague,  and  tended 
more  to  speculative  enjoyment  than  to  practical  opera 
tion. 

"  ISTow,  Guilford,  I've  flown  my  kite.  Suppose  you 
let  yours  slip  ?" 

It  was  near  sun-down,  we  were  sitting  upon  the  bank, 
enjoying  the  beauties  of  the  landscape. 

"  Do  you  see  that  farm-house  '$"  asked  Guilford. 

"  What,  the  miller's  ?" 

"Yes.  I  would  exchange  all  other  earthly  success 
for  the  ownership  of  that  habitation  and  these  green 


208  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

acres.  I  would  ask  no  better  fortune  than  just  to  live 
out  my  days  here — the  mill  below  clicking  in  my  ears — 
to  look  out  upon  the  green  meadows  at  our  feet,  with 
their  pyramid  haystacks — the  grand  old  oaks  and  syca 
mores  looming  around  me  like  guardian  giants — those 
waving  fields  of  grain — the  white  sheep  dotting  the 
hills  sloping  down  to  the  brook — the  cattle  yonder  more 
precious  to  me  than  Egyptian  Apis — the  barns — the 
poultry — the  orchard — this  rivulet — a  silver  thread 
upon  which  to  string  my  necklace  of  jewels — grant 
me  these,  with  my  mother  to  dwell  in  yon  house,  and 
you  to  live  in  a  cottage  of  your  own  upon  this  very 
bank"  — 

"  Large  enough  for  a  library  ?"  I  cried. 

"Yes,  with  you  over  here  I  would  be  the  happiest 
man  in  America !  "Walter." 

"But  Maud  and  Mabel — what's  to  become  of  them?" 

"  Mabel !"  my  brother  Guilford  uttered  abstractedly. 

"  Yes  Maud  and  Mabel,"  I  repeated. 

"  Oh  !  I'd  like  a  fortune  for  their  sakes,  or  rather  for 
Tier  sake" —  Guilford  looked  at  me  in  a  puzzling 
manner. 

"As  for  Maud,"  continued  he,  "she  should  marry 
Allen,  and  I  would  buy  a  library  for  him — a  law 
library." 

Guilford  then  proceeded,  as  we  arose  and  started 
away  after  old  Brindle,  to  speak  of  the  present. 

It  was  now  nearly  three  years  since  Guilford  became 
shopboy.  His  experiences  had  been  various.  His  first 


MILLBROOK.  209 

employer  was  a  grocer.  His  wages  twelve  dollars  a 
month.  Mr.  Sortem  was  a  pinching  tradesman,  wore  a 
pin  head  on  his  shoulders,  and  you  would  think  a  pin 
hole  in  his  bosom ;  for  his  heart  was  as  diminutive  as  his 
head.  This  man  was  a  widower,  and  had  a  little  needle 
of  a  daughter — she  was  so  sharp  tongued.  My  mother 
took  her  as  a  lodger,  but  she  darted  out  so  dreadfully 
her  little  fiery  serpent  of  a  tongue,  that  Mabel  was 
driven  half  crazy,  and  my  mother  was  obliged  to  send 
word  to  Mr.  Sortem  that  it  was  inconvenient  to  keep  his 
daughter.  This  enraged  that  gentleman,  and  in  retalia 
tion  Guilford  was  discharged. 

He  then  went  to  measuring  tape  and  ribbons  in  a 
small  dry  goods  establishment,  a  little  further  up  from 
the  market.  Here  he  lived  with  a  worthy  gentleman, 
who  treated  him  very  well,  but  the  skeleton  now  was  an 
elder  brother  who  had  crazy  fits,  and  exercised,  sane  or 
insane,  unbounded  influence  over  Guilford's  master.  It 
happened  one  day  that  the  young  clerk  found  a  lost 
pocket-book  in  the  street.  It  was  advertised,  and  no 
owner  appearing,  the  skeleton  took  possession.  Boys 
are  supposed  to  have  no  natural  rights — of  course — be 
sides  this  was  a  sort  of  supernatural  affair.  Guilford 
had  spirit  to  leave  the  establishment,  and  found  employ 
ment  better  suited  to  his  early  tastes.  He  is  now  a  clerk 
in  the  warehouse  of  the  great  steamboat  owner,  Mr. 
Mayflower.  Guilford  never  has  felt  that  high  respect 
which  is  due  shopboys — "  Little  fellows,"  said  Guilford, 
"  who  for  the  sake  of  dressing  well  pinch  their  souls  as 


210  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

well  as  their  bodies."     It  must  be  borne  in.  mind  that  he 
was  prejudiced. 

Nothing  is  wanting  now  but  the  prospect  of  some  day 
retiring  on  a  farm,  to  render  Guilford  March  "  the 
happiest  man  in  America."  This  end  to  attain  is 
the  ultimate  hope,  the  grand  climacteric  of  his  day 
dreams. 

Besides  supporting  himself,  Guilford  paid  no  little 
pecuniary  tribute  to  the  lady  paramount,  our  excellent 
mother,  to  secure  whom  in  the  unembarrassed  possession 
of  Lilac  Cottage  was  the  first  object  in  the  youth's 
heart. 

"  But  one  more  payment  to  make,  "quoth  Walter,  as 
the  two  went  searching  the  wood,  pausing  occasionally 
to  hark  for  the  sound  of  a  cow-bell. 

"  But  one  more,  and  then  the  cut  off  lot  to  repur 
chase." 

"  If  we  can  /"  said  Guilford,  emphatically. 

"Why  may  we  not?"  I  inquired. 

"  The  gentleman  who  bought  it  has  gone  away,  leav. 
ing  his  business  in  the  hands  of  Maud's  friend,  Mr. 
Magroy." 

"  What,  Old  Growl «" 

"  Yes,  Allen  told  me  so  yesterday.  He  came  down 
to  the  counting  room." 

"  But  were  we  not  promised  the  refusal  of  it  ?" 

"  Mr.  Magroy  may  interpose  some  friendly  obstacle," 
said  Guilford  ironically. 

"  That  old  man  is  our  evil  genius  !"  I  cried. 


MILLBKOOK.  211 

At  this  moment  I  had  taken  hold  of  a  branch  lying 
across  the  path,  and  was  drawing  it  back  in  order  to 
pass  by.  The  branch  broke  and  I  fell. 

"  Guilford  !"  I  demanded,  with  increased  wrath,  rising 
from  the  earth,  "  if  you  had  the  power,  to  what  fate 
would  you  consign  the  persecutor  of  our  house,  the 
maligner  of  Maud  and  mother  ?  Would  you  not  hang 
the  wretch  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Would  you  not  force  him  to  do  justice  where  he  has 
wronged?  To  take  Allen  back  ?" 

"No!  No!" 

"  AVould  you  not  reduce  him  to  rags  ?  fling  him  on 
the  wide  wide  world,  an  outcast  and  a  beggar  ?  a  by 
word — a  reproach — a  hissing  ? — a  " 

"No  Walter.  He  should  marry  Mrs.  Polyphemia 
Fidgets  !" 

The  distant  though  welcome  tinkle  of  old  Brindle's 
bell  was  heard.  We  left  the  wood  ere  long,  and  the 
trees  with  their  briarean  arms  arched  over  the  little  cow- 
path  behind  us.  The  leafy  wilderness  grew  musical 
with  the  twitter  of  insects  and  solemn  toll  of  night  birds. 
The  sun  had  already  sunk  upon  the  western  prairies, 
where  the  Fringed  Gentian  closed  her  blue  hood,  and 
watched  like  a  nun  in  the  chapel  of  the  dead.  Nature 
lay  down  in.  stately  repose. 

And  Doer  and  Dreamer  went  pensively  homeward, 
passing  from  the  present  into  the  future. 


212  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTEE    XXII. 

MAJOK   FONTENOY   VISITS   ME.    MAGKOY. 

But  gentle  heaven 

Cut  short  all  intermission  :  front  to  front 
Bring  thou  this  fiend  of  Scotland  and  myself. 

MACBETH. 

AUTUMN  came  with  its  crimson-spotted  leaves  and 
Indian  summer  sky,  a  beautiful,  hazy,  smoky,  dreamy, 
indolent  carnival  for  all  the  forces  of  nature.  Night 
and  day  seemed  to  have  crossed  orbits  and  confounded 
each  other,  or  like  two  tired  wrestlers,  were  lying  down 
peacefully  together.  The  clouds  seemed  toppling  over 
with  drowsiness,  like  the  dizzy  old  Leaning  Tower  at 
Pisa,  or  those  ancient  minarets  whose  bases  are  wearing 
away  by  the  wasting  flood  of  Egypt's  Nile.  The  red 
windmills  on  the  river  shore  looked  as  if  standing 

O 

beneath  an  incessant  rain  of  dim  fire.  My  body  went 
about  tenantless  of  its  spirit,  which  methought  was  like 
wise  absent  in  cloudland,  dreaming  with  sister  spirits. 

The  thought,  the  possibility  even  of  leaving  home, 
rendered  doubly  dear  to  me  the  enjoyment  of  my  favo 
rite  season  in  its  favorite  haunts.  I  lay  down  by  my 
father's  grave,  in  the  long,  dry  grass.  The  banks  of  the 


.          MAJOR    FONTENOY     VISITS     MR.     MAGEOT.      213 

river  and  tlie  sound  of  the  woods — where  the  leaves 
falling  made  music  like  that  of  showers  on  straw- 
thatched  cottages — grew  sweeter  and  sweeter  every 
day,  as  with  melancholy  pleasure  I  paced  along.  The 
thought  of  leaving  Mabel  weighed  a  little  upon  my 
listless  spirits. 

"If  I  do  go,  dear  Mabel,"  said  Walter  to  that 
beloved  creature,  as  we  walked  the  lawn  together  one 
afternoon,  "  if  I  do  go,  I  never  shall  forget  my  little 
madcap  sweetheart." 

Mabel  changed  color  and  looked  away 

"  Ah  !"  thought  I.  "  her  grief  is  great." 

"  You  may  be  sure  of  my  constancy,  Mabel ;  I  shall 
be  ever  true  to  thee." 

"  You  will  have  many  things  to  think  of  more  import 
ant  than  a  little  girl,"  she  said,  still  looking  away. 

"  No  !  nothing  so  sweet,  no  one  so  dear  as  you.  In 
the  palaces  of  the  great,  on  the  field  of  renown,  at  the 
top  of  Fame's  ladder,  Mabel  shall  claim  the  first  place 
in  my  heart." 

Walter's  manner  was  a  graceful  blending  of  loftiness 
with  condescension.  But  it  was  not  so  fascinating  in 
its  effects  upon  Mabel  as  one  might  suppose. 

"Had  you  not  better  begin  to  think  of  your  mathe 
matics,  Walter?"  said  she  in  a  quizzical  manner.  In 
another  moment  she  had  fled  from  my  side,  and  van 
ished  into  the  house. 

"Mathematics!"  I  exclaimed.  "The  valley  of  dry 
bones !  'twill  be  the  death  of  me  some  day." 


214  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  My  thoughts  now  were  fully  turned  on  West  Point. 
The  son  of  Mr.  Hasting's  political  friend  had  failed, 
leaving  a  vacancy.  M.  Latrobe  was  going  to  the 
United  States  Senate  the  coming  winter,  and  promised 
to  urge  my  appointment. 

Guilford  has  gone  up  rapidly  in  the  esteem  of  Mr. 
Mayflower.  He  has  just  been  promoted  to  chief  clerk. 
He  has  been  able  to  assist  h:s  eldest  brother,  John 
March,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  legal  studies,  though  John 
requires  little' — ere  long,  none  at  all,  as  he  will  soon  go 
into  practice. 

Townspeople  began  to  remark — • 

"  The  Marches  are  certainly  a  rising  family." 

As  for  the  coming  payment,  six  hundred  dollars,  there 
will  be  no  difficulty  with  reference  to  that ;  for  between 
Guilford,  Maud,  and  Mrs.  March's  savings  during 
the  year,  it  is  to  be  paid  when  due.  Our  hearts  swelled 
with  emotions  of  pride  and  pleasure  as  we  thought  the 
great  burden  of  our  lives,  especially  that  of  our  mother, 
was  so  soon  to  be  rolled  away. 

But  one  thing  seemed  wanting  to  fill  our  cup  to  over 
flowing — the  happiness  of  the  unselfish,  conscientious, 
glorious  Maud.  And  even  here  an  unexpected  light 
came  breaking  in  just  at  this  time,  cheering  us — or  at 
least  me,  for  Guilford  was  less  sanguine — with  hopes  for 
the  dear  lily  of  the  valley. 

There  are  some  souls  in  this  rough  world  who  are 
capable  of  a  height  of  magnanimity  inconceivable  to  the 
vulgar.  Major  Fontenoy,  dear  reader,  was  one  of 


MAJOR    FONTENOY     VISITS    MK.     MAGROY.       215 

those  souls.  He  no  sooner  learned  the  secret  with 
reference  to  Maud  and  the  Magroys  than,  to  use  a  mili 
tary  phrase,  he  advanced  to  the  rescue. 

"I  will  see  Old  Growl  myself,  Walter,  hey!" 
said  he. 

The  buoyant  spirit  of  this  noble  man,  in  the  immor 
tality  of  its  vital  goodness,  enabled  him  to  bear  the 
burden  of  his  grief  more  lightly  than  one  might  look  for 
in  a  man  of  feeling. 

A  sudden  grey  streak  about  his  temples,  showed  like 
the  ashes  of  unquenchable  fire  smouldering  beneath,  or 
that  the  lightning  had  passed.  Beyond  this  there  was 
no  change  in  the  outward  man.  The  bouquets,  the  beau 
tiful  cameos,  the  music  and  books  came  as  ever  from 
the  "  unknown  friend  " — alas  !  never  to  be  known  by 
dearer  name ! 

I  had  been  brought  more  into  the  company  of 
Major  Fontenoy  of  late  than  usual.  He  claimed  the 
right  to  fit  me  for  West  Point.  We  became  as  knight 
and  squire,  rather  than  master  and  pupil.  This  intimacy 
led  to  his  pouring  out  his  secrets  to  Walter,  and  to  that 
youngster  telling  the  excellent  bachelor,  with  an 
attempted  fine  stroke  of  consolation,  how  matters  stood 
in  the  heart  of  Maud. 

One  day  then,  in  the  hazy  October,  behold  Major 
Fontenoy  at  the  entrance  of  the  kennel. 

A  knock. 

A  growl — "  Come  in  !" 


216  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Good  morning  Mr.  Magroy,  hey  !" 

"  Good  morning !  good  morning.  Take  a  chair 
Major  Fontenoy,  take  a  chair  sir." 

"  Thank  you  sir,  hey !  The  plum  trees  begin  to 
look  bare,  hey !  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  hey ! 
Melancholy,  melancholy,  hey!" 

"  Course  of  nature,  major,  course  of  nature ;  no  use 
going  to  bed  because  leaves  fall — so  Dean  Swift  thought, 
you  know." 

The  major  was  pleased  at  finding  the  canny  Scot  in 
so  pleasant  a  mood. 

"  Hearts  like  yours  so  stoutly  bound  up,  are  not  easily 
disturbed,  Mr.  Magroy,  hey  !  but  with  me,  destitute  of 
ties  of  any  fleshly  nature,  with  no  soft  eyes  to  look  into 
mine  for  sympathy  ;  the  leaves  sir  are  children,  hey ! 
my  only  children,  hey  !" 

"  Not  so  much  to  be  pitied  major,  after  all.  Real 
children  are  a  bother,  sir.  Kay,  friend  Fontenoy,"  he 
added,  leaning  over  the  table,  and  slightly  stamping  his 
cane  on  the  door,  "children  are  a  grief!  a  grief,  sir!  a 
grief,  a  grief." 

"  Ah  yes,  hey !  But  might  there  not  be  new 
channels  dug  to  turn  the  waters  around  the  work,  hey ! 
— imprisoned  heart,  hey ! — so  that  pity  and  forgive 
ness  may  march  to  the  attack  of  grief,  and  deliver  the 
heart  from  its  dungeon,  hey  !" 

"  You  allude  to  a  sore  subject,  a  sore  subject,  Major 
Fontenoy.  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  we  will  leave  it." 


MAJOR     FONTENOT     VISITS     MR.     MAGROT.      217 

"  Oh,  ask  pardon,  hey  I" 

"  Yes,  sir !"  said  Mr.  Magroy,  looking  dark  already 
from  the  pine  forest  about  his  eyes. 

The  good  old  gentleman  was  confused,  not  knowing 
which  of  the  two  was  asking  pardon.  The  gentlemanly 
major  was  quick  to  detect  the  dilemma. 

"  I  ask  pardon  myself,  hey !  ha  !  ha !  Beg  pardon, 
hey!  ha!  ha!" 

Though  the  major  still  laughed,  Mr.  Magroy  did  not 
cease  to  frown,  not  yet  set  right. 

"T)oyou  beg  pardon,  or  do /beg  pardon,  sir?"  he 
thundered,  at  length. 

"  I  beg  yours  with  all  my  heart,  my  dear  sir,  with  all 
my  heart,  hey  !" 

"  Granted,  granted,"  said  Mr.  Magroy,  gruffly.  "  I 
always  thought  you  a  perfect  gentleman.  Officers  of 
the  army  generally  are,  sir." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  the  major  slowly,  "  my  dear  Mr. 
Magroy,  that  I  am  about  to  jeopardize  the  reputation  of 
the  class  which  you  have  so  politely  complimented, 
hey!' 

"Yes,  I  mean  to  compliment  them,  sir."  The  learned 
Theban  did  not  yet  quite  perceive  the  major's  pecu 
liarity. 

"  Be  good  enough,  sir,  to  try  me  now,"  he  said,  in  a 
manner  which  encouraged  the  major  at  once. 

"  Well  sir,  your  son,  hey  !" 

"  My  son,  sir,  what  of  him,  anything  happened !  but 
no  matter,  he  is  no  longer  my  son.  They  have  robbed 

10 


218  SHOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

me  of  my  Joseph,  and  carried  him  away  into  Egypt," — 
the  tender  hearted  father  half-sobbed. 

"  He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  hey !" 

"He  is  a  disobedient,  rebellious  brat,  sir!"  exclaimed 
the  classic  Mr.  Magroy,  very  unexpectedly  to  the  diplo 
matist,  who  had  just  bgan  to  flatter  himself  with  his 
progress  in  this  delicate  negotiation. 

"Were  you  aware,  dear  Mr.  Magroy,"  asked  the 
major,  "  that  in  keeping  your  son  under  the  ban  of  your 
displeasure,  you  are  breaking  the  heart  of  one  of  the 
divinest  of  human  beings  ?" 

"  Breaking  whose  heart  2"  demanded  Mr.  Magroy, 
with  a  weak  glance  out  of  his  strong  eye. 

"  The  heart  of  the  daughter  of  one  who  was  once  your 
friend,  hey!  I  will  not  say  more,  hey  !" 

Now  the  fact  that  Mr.  March  had  assisted  Mr.  Magroy 
when  a  poor  man,  was  a  lasting  monument  to  his  disgrace 
— for  Mr.  Magroy  the  rich,  thought  poverty  a  disgrace 
— and  this  unhappy  fact  always  enraged  Archibald 
Magroy,  LL.D.  At  least  so  we  easily  accounted  for 
the  mystery. 

"  The  Marches !  the  detestable  Marches  !"  he  shouted 
jumping  to  the  floor,  and  setting  cane  and  feet  in 
motion.  "The  cause  of  all  my  troubles,  the  Egyptians 
that  stole  my  Joseph.  I  demand  of  you,  sir,  a  professsed 
gentleman,  sir,  what  right  have  you,  sir,  to  meddle  in 
this  business,  sir  ?" 

He  stopped  to  shake  his  cane  in  the  major's  face 
across  the  table. 


MAJOR    FONTENOY    VISITS    ME.     MAGKOY.     219 

"  Gentleman !    by   St.    Andrew    no    gentleinan    are 

you." 

Again  he  went  on  stamping  011  the  innocent  floor,  as 
if  it  were  his  enemy.  Suddenly  he  cried  out  more 
violently — 

"  To  enter  a  man's  house,  a  man's  castle,  sir,  and 
remind  him  not  only  of  his  domestic  misfortunes,  but  sir ! 
of  his — sir — his  poverty,  his  youthful  folly,  his  disgrace, 
his  beggary,  sir." 

The  major  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  calmly  yet 
sternly  confronted  the  madman  before  him. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  sir,  you  are  making  a  fool  of  your 
self,  hey  !" 

';  This  in  my  own  house,  sir  ?  to  me,  sir  ?  villain  !  low 
born  "— 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?"  interrupted  Major  Fontenoy, 
"  that  dare  attempt  to  stain  the  escutcheon  of  one  born 
and  bred  a  gentleman — a  Virginia  gentleman,  sir  ?  And 
who,  I  demand  too,  sir,  are  you,  that  claim  to  be  above 
the  decencies  of  life,  common  gratitude  for  favors,  for 
aid  notoriously  the  groundwork  of  your  fortune  ?  And 
who,  sir" — the  major's  voice  rose  and  his  manner  in 
creased  in  sternness — •"  who,  pray,  are  you,  sir,  that  dare 
to  profane  the  name  of  mother  and  daughter — in  every 
respect  your  superiors — and,  sir,  so  far  above  the  con 
duct  you  have  lyingly  attributed  to  them,  as  to  have 
renounced  all  intercourse  with  your  son,  and  what  is  still 
more  to  their  credit  for  true  delicacy  of  feeling,  have 
never  made  that  mention  of  your  conduct  which  its 


220  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

infamy  deserves.  I  will  proclaim  it,  sir.  Why!  were 
you  not  an  old  man,  sir,  this  single  arm  " — 

Astonished,  rebuked,  alarmed,  Mr.  Magroy  had 
listened  to  this  address,  striving  momentarily  to  inter 
rupt  it ;  but,  yielding  to  the  resistless  energy  of  the  true 
gentleman  before  him,  he  had  quailed  again  and  held 
his  peace,  till  now  he  sank  down  in  his  chair  with  a 
groan,  uttering  faintly: 

"  Oh !  God  of  Israel,  Esau  my  eldest  brother  has 
came  up  against  me,  de-liv-er  me." 

And  the  wretched  old  man  gasped  with  terror. 

Major  Fontenoy  stood  regarding  him  a  while  in  silence 
and  undisguisedly  contemptuous  pity.  He  then  rang 
the  bell,  Mrs.  Fidgets  appeared — so  quickly  that  the 
major  thought  her  within  surprising  proximity.  Fidgets, 
who  had  heard  the  greater  part  of  the  conversation, 
assumed  a  look  of  innocence,  and  running  up  to  Mr. 
Magroy  with  an  officious  zeal,  cried  out, 

"  Good  lud  !  sir,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

Despite  Fidgets'  affection,  her  countenance  expressed 
so  little  pity  and  sympathy,  that  the  major,  with  a  look 
of  disgust,  ordered  her  contemptuously  to  bring  in  some 
wine  and  water  for  her  master. 

On  her  speedy  return  with  the  required  beverage,  her 
master  drank  with  the  docility  of  a  child,  and  sat  up  in 
his  chair  refreshed. 

"  Leave,  hey  !"  said  the  major  to  Mrs.  Fidgets,  as 
she  lingered  caressingly  over  her  master. 

The  woman  obeyed. 


MAJOR    FONTENOY    VISITS    MR.     MAQROY.     221 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Magroy,"  spoke  the  major, 
again  sitting  down,  "that  circumstances  should  have 
brought  about  this  scene,  hey  !" 

"  Please  proceed,  Major  Fontenoy,  proceed,"  replied 
Mr.  Magroy  meekly,  sipping  his  wine  and  water. 

"My  object  in  calling,  sir,  was  in  a  friendly  way  to 
reconcile  you  to  your  son,  the  best  young  man  I  ever 
knew,  hey  !  as  well  as  to  set  the  conduct  of  other  per 
sons,  the  subject  of  our  late  conversation,  in  a  fair  light 
before  you,  hey !  you  will  please  perceive  that  I  had 
no  vulgar  desire  of  meddling  with  your  affairs,  hey  1" 

"  I  will  apologize,"  exclaimed  the  old  man  in  a  whin 
ing  tone. 

"  No  apologies  necessary,  hey  !"  continued  the  major, 
somewhat  gentler  in  manner,  and  less  dry  and  cold  in 
tone. 

"  What  I  wish,  sir,  is  more  ample  satisfaction, 
hey!" 

"  What,  sir,  do  you  want !"  demanded  Mr.  Magroy 
peevishly — for  an  LL.D. 

"  That  you  heal  these  unhappy  differences  by  a  simple 
act  of  justice." 

Mr.  Magroy  sipped  his  wine  and  water,  and  tapped 
his  cane  on  the  table  in  silent  abstraction  a  long  time. 
Finally  he  said, 

"  Major  Fontenoy,  you  will  pardon  me  for  bringing 
this  neighborly  conference  to  an  end,  sir.  But  if  you 
please,  I  will  confer  with  the  parties.  In  short,  sir,  I 
would  rather  see  Mrs.  March  herself." 


222  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

r' Certainly,  hey!"   growled  the  major  rising,  "you 

will  promise  me  not  to  insult " — 

"  Trust  me  for  that,  trust  me  for  that.     My  honor  for 

that,  sir!" 

"  Very  well.     Good  morning,  hey !" 

"  Good  morning,  good  Major  Fontenoy." 

When  the  major  related  this  scene  to  me  he  said, 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think  the  old  fellow  has  some  honor, 

too,  hey  !  "Walter,  hey  !" 

And  the  dear  major  did  verily  believe  that  everybody 

had  some  honor. 

I  do  not  know  but  that  he  was  right. 


MR.     MAGROY    HONORS    LILAC    COTTAGE.      223 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MR.    MAGROY   HONORS   LILAC    COTTAGE. 

"  YES  ;  I  don't  know  but  lie  was  right,"  quoth  I  to 
Guilford,  "  or  else  there's  some  mystery  in  it." 

"  Mighty  little  honor,"  quoth  he. 

"  There  may  be  some  in  his  heart,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  fire  till  I  see  either  smoke  or 
blaze,"  said  he. 

"  JSTot  if  you  scent  it  out?"  asked  I,  returning  to  the 
rescue  of  charity.  "The  old  fellow  evinced  shame  at 
least,  and  when  Shame  goes  before,  like  a  Nubian  slave, 
you  may  be  certain  the  noble  Roman,  Honor  follows 
after." 

At  this  moment,  happening  to  look  from  the  library, 
through  the  lilac  trees,  upon  the  mottled  lawn,  who 
should  we  behold  but  the  old  Scotsman  coming  over  the 
grass,  stamping  his  cane,  and  looking  down  like  Winter 
trampling  on  the  lingering  train  of  Autumn.  Guilford 
seized  his  hat  and  departed  for  the  warehouse.  He  met 
Mr.  Magroy.  That  good-natured  gentleman  stopped 
and  shook  hands — rather  warmly  I  thought,  for  an  evil 
genius. 


8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  two  parted,  and  Mr.  Magroy's  cane  being  heard 
on  the  steps  of  the  porch,  I  went  to  greet  him  welcome 
— a  feeble  welcome  to  be  sure. 

"  Is  Mistress  March  within  ?"  he  asked. 

Mr.  Magroy  sat  down  heavily  in  the  arm-chair. 

I  called  my  mother. 

Mr.  Magroy  arose  and  bowed  profoundly. 

My  mother  went  up  to  him,  and  held  out  her  hand  in 
a  friendly  manner. 

"  I  am  happy  to  see  you  once  more  in  our  house,  sir." 

"Ahem!  yes,  madam.  I  reciprocate.  In  fact, 
madam,  my  heart  is  touched.  There  have  been  some 
differences,  madam,  between  our  families,  a  long  time  : 
yes,  madam,  a  long,  long  time,"  and  Mr.  Magroy  leaned 
his  breast  on  his  hands,  which  covered  each  other  and 
the  head  of  the  cane,  and  looked  fixedly  at  the  fire — 
or  something  far  beyond  it. 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  said  rny  mother,  "  that  the  hour  is  at 
hand  when  we  shall  resume  our  old  neighborly  inter 
course.  Yet,  sir,"  she  added,  "  the  difference  between 
our  circumstances  in  life  " 

"  Say  no  more,  madam,  say  no  more.  I've  been 
thinking  that  all  over,  madam,  on  my  bed,  madam,  in 
my  heart,  away  from  that  pest  of  a  housekeeper,"  he 
added  fiercely.  "  But  thank  God !  that's  ended." 

My  mother  thought  the  distressed  old  gentleman 
wandering  in  his  unhappy  mind. 

"But  I  cannot  live  alone,  madam.  Is  that  tall,  fine 
boy  your  son,  Mistress  March  ?" 


MR.     MAGKOY    HONORS     LILAC    COTTAGE.       225 

"  Yes,  sir.     Walter,  Mr.  Magroy.     You  have  not  met 

since — since  " My  mother  faltered  and  glanced 

reverently  towards  the  picture  of  my  father. 

"  No,  no,  Mistress  March.  Be  good  enough  to 
request  the  young  gentleman — a  worthy,  fine-faced  boy 
he  looks — please  request  him  to  withdraw." 

My  mother  looked  surprised !  "  If  you  have  any 
matter  to  communicate  to  me,  sir,  do  not  mind  Walter. 
We  have  no  secrets  but  what  are  common  to  my  family." 

Mr.  Magroy  looked  a  little  blank,  and  then  a  little 
displeased,  and  then  somewhat  embarrassed.  He 
turned  on  his  chair.  He  changed  his  hands  on  his 
cane.  Finally  a  thought  came  and  shook  him  by  the 
head. 

He  spoke. 

"  Well,  madam,  perhaps  there  is  a  slate  or  blackboard 
that  the  young  gentleman  may  find  for  me  to  write  my 
communication  on,  for  madam,  to  save  my  life,  I  do  not 
feel  strength  for  words.  My  heart  has  been  wrung, 
madam.  I  am  a  feeble  old  man,  madam.  I  seek  light, 
consolation,  and  peace — yes,  let  him  get  a  slate  or  a 
blackboard." 

Walter  suggested  "  paper." 

"  Ah!  that  will  do— quite  a  bright  lad !" 

I  went  to  the  desk,  and  drew  thence  a  little  folio — an 
whose  pockets  scraps  of  poetry  were  lodged — and  laid 
it  before  Mr.  Magroy,  with  some  stiff  old  English 
paper,  such  as  we  then  used,  and  a  pencil. 

"This  will  do,  my  fine  fellow,  this  will  do." 

10* 


220  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

He  look  the  pencil,  and  after  a  moment's  deliberation 
wrote  a  few  words,  then  handed  the  paper  to  mj  mother. 

Mrs.  March  handed  it  to  me  without  looking  at  it. 

"  Head  it,  my  son." 

"  Aloud,  mother  ?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Magroy  looked  vexed,  but  held  his  peace. 

The  communication  was  as  follows  : 

"  Mrs.  Fidgets  =gone." 

I  read  accordingly, 

"Mrs.  Fidget's  equal  to  gone  ;"  and  felt  much  pride, 
too,  in  my  newly  acquired  knowledge  of  algebraic  terms. 

"  Never  mind  the  sign  of  equality,"  he  cried,  with  his 
usual  cane  accompaniment.  "  Mrs.  Fidgets  is  gone ! 
madam." 

Mrs.  March  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Magroy. 
I  quite  congratulate  you." 

Mr.  Magroy  took  the  paper  again  and  wrote — • 

"  She  abused  my  confidence,  madam,  she  had  designs 
on  me,  she  has  lied  to  me  about  Allen,  about  you  and 
your  worthy  daughter ;  and  only  last  night,  madam,  she 
bearded  me,  threatened  me,  Archibald  Magroy,  LL.D., 
demanded  a  provision  in  my  will  or  she  would  expose 
me,  for  what,  God  only  knows,  madam.  I  rose  in  my 
righteous  indignation  and  drove  her  from  my  house — 
wish  I  had  kicked  her." 

Over  the  last  five  words  the  pen  had  been  drawn  as 
if  the  amiable  gentleman  had  suddenly  repented. 

My  mother  read  the  communication  this  time,  and 


ME.    MAGROY    HONORS     LILAC     COTTAGE.       227 

handed  it  to  "Walter,  who  read  and  returned  it  to  Mr. 
Magroy. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  March. 

"  Sorry  for  whom  ?"  he  asked  abruptly 

"  For  both  of  you,  sir,"  replied  the  kind  hearted  lady. 

"  You  have  it  in  your  power  to  console,"  was  now 
written. 

Mrs.  March  wrote  in  reply. 

"  I  would  be  happy  in  my  humble  way  to  oblige  an 
old  neighbor." 

"  Thank  you  madam."  The  old  gentleman  paused, 
handed  the  paper  to  my  mother,  who  returned  it  in 
silence. 

A  long  time  Mr.  Magroy  paused,  with  his  chin  now 
fastened  down  to  his  knuckles,  clasped  over  the  head  of 
the  cane.  Two  or  three  times  he  nodded  approvingly 
to  himself — or  the  fire — then  shook  his  head  immediately 
afterwards.  At  length  he  took  paper  and  pencil  and 
wrote  as  follows : 

"  "Will  you  be  my  housekeeper?" 

My  mother's  face  crimsoned  as  she  wrote  in  strong 
characters, 

"  No,  sir." 

Mr.  Magroy  read  this  reply  without  looking  at  my 
mother.  He  made  a  peculiar  gesture  with  his  head 
which  I  interpreted  to  mean — 

"  Humph  !  I  thought  so  !  I  thought  so  1" 

Then  he  suddenly  wrote  more  freely,  as  if  he  had 
thought  of  it  before — contingently,  but  now,  decidedly. 


228  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

Meantime  my  mother  had  risen  from  the  lounge,  the 
color  on  her  face  deepened  and  darkened.  There  was 
an  angry,  excited  motion  of  her  lips.  Her  bosom 
heaved  with  emotion.  She  walked  hurriedly  towards 
the  door  as  if  to  flee  from  a  pursuing  enemy.  Then,  as 
if  changing  her  mind,  she  staggered  to  the  window, 
against  the  frame  of  which  she  leaned. 

Mr.  Magroy  handed  me  the  communication.  I 
handed  it  to  my  mother.  Her  appearance  startled  me. 
Never  in  all  her  lone  widowhood,  never  in  lowest  penury 
and  desperate  distress,  had  I  seen  my  mother  look  so 
utterly  woe-stricken  as  now. 

"  Oh  God !  oh  God  1"  she  uttered,  "  if  thou  hadst  but 
spared  him  but  to  save  me  this  trial !" 

I  placed  the  paper  in  her  hand.  She  struggled  to 
appear  calm  and  control  the  passion  and  wretchedness 
contending  as  it  were  for  her  very  life.  "With  a  blanched 
cheek  and  quivering  lip  she  read, 

"  I  will  forgive  Allen,  let  him  marry  your  daughter, 
and  settle  on  them  my  fortune,  if  you  will  be  my — wife  1" 

"  Never  !  never  !"  murmured  my  mother.  Her  form 
glided  down  the  wall.  I  sprang  towards  her  and  caught 
her  ere  she  fell. 

"  Fiend !"  I  exclaimed,  "  fiend  !  you  have  killed  my 
mother !" 

"I  have!  I  have !  oh  God  how  innocently!"  he 
exclaimed  in  a  wild,  despairing  voice.  "  I  thought  to 
make  amends  for  all,  and  by  my  rashness  have  murdered 
the  wife  of  my  old  benefacter,  the  only  woman  I " — 


MB.     MAGROY    HONORS    LILAC    COTTAGE.       229 

He  hastened  to  assist  me,  but  I  brushed  away  his  out 
stretched  hands  and  bore  my  mother  to  the  lounge. 

Bowes,  and  Maud,  and  Mabel,  rushed  into  the  library 
at  the  violent  ringing  of  the  bell. 

My  mother's  head  lay  in  the  lap  of  Maud,  whose  white 
face  and  fair  hair  gave  her  the  look  of  a  statue.  Mabel 
was  on  her  knees,  weeping  silently.  Bowes  was  opening 
the  fastenings  of  my  mother's  dress.  Yet  Mr.  Magroy 
stirred  not. 

"  Some  water !"  whispered  Maud.  I  saw  him  as  I 
turned  to  bring  water  from  the  adjoining  room.  On  my 
return  there  he  stood,  stock  still.  I  took  him  gently  by 
the  arm. 

"  Old  man— go !" 

I  led  him  towards  the  door. 

"  My  eon,"  he  cried,  as  he  raised  his  wan  eyes  to  me, 
"  she's  right,  she's  right." 

I  led  him  compassionately  and  tenderly  down  the  steps 
of  the  porch. 

As  he  walked  away  with  difficulty  on  his  cane  I  over 
heard  him  say, 

"A  wretch  once  more,  a  wanderer  on  the  earth,  a 
childless,  wifeless,  friendless  old  fool — Oh  !  oh  !" 


230  SHOEPAC     KECOL  LECTIONS. 


CHAPTEK    XXIY. 

JOHN  MARCH  IS  ABOUT  TO  KISE  AND  BECOME  A  MAN  OF  THE 

WORLD. 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  November  30th. 
"My  DEAREST  MOTHER: 

"  I  crave  a  thousand  pardons  for  my  negligence 
tliis  fall — I  have  been  so  busy.  As  my  letters  have 
been  hasty  and  mere  scraps  of  notes  to  Guilford,  Maud, 
and  Walter,  I  will  now  give  you  a  connected  account 
of  myself  and  my  various  doings  since  leaving  Law 
school.  I  had  scarcely  got  up  my  shingle,  as  we  say 
West,  ere  the  fall  campaign  for  the  presidential  elec 
tion  began  to  rage  in  New  England.  The  political 
friends  of  my  excellent  patron  and  partner  demanded 
his  services  in  the  field.  Detained  at  home  by  family 
afflictions,  he  requested  me  to  " take  the  stump"  as  we 
say  at  home.  Accordingly  I  commenced  operations  at 
Cambridge,  the  scene  of  my  college  and  mock  court 
achievements,  such  as  they  were ;  made  a  happy  hit ;  my 
fame  was  noised  abroad  through  the  Boston  papers — my 
tour  through  New  England,  though  laborious,  was  like  a 
triumph.  I  would  say  so  to  no  one  but  you.  My  friends 


JOHN     MARCH     ABOUT     TO     RISE.  231 

and  the  friends  of  Mr.  Lucklaw,  my  partner,  flatter  me 
that  my  efforts  have  had  no  little  to  do  with  the  triumph 
of  our  candidate  in  the  New  England  States. 

"  Now  comes  another  sort  of  story. 

"  My  partner  has  a  daughter,  tolerably  pretty,  well- 
educated,  no  fault  to  find,  though  no  great  personal 
attractions.  My  attentions  have  not  been  lost  upon  her. 
I  have  offered  myself,  and  been  accepted.  The  old 
gent's  approval  warmly  given,  and  I  only  wait  your 
approval  to  become  one  of  the — I  will  not  say  happi 
est  of  men,  for  I  have  not  staked  my  fate  upon  domestic 
happiness — but  one  of  the  most  fortunate. 

"  How  melancholy  that  I  have  always  been  forced  to 
forego — by  pecuniary  straits,  the  pleasure  of  a  visit 
home !  The  means  for  my  electioneering  tour,  of 
course,  were  furnished  by  political  friends.  Mr.  Luck- 
law  has  come  down,  or  is  to  come  down,  handsomely. 
His  first  gift  in  money  will  enable  me  to  visit  you,  and 
bring  my  bride. 

"  You  must  not  expect  too  much.  Remember  she  is 
neither  brilliant  nor  beautiful.  But  she  is  good,  amiable, 
affectionate,  educated,  and  as  you  already  know,  last, 
but  not  least — rich.  She  is  a  good  Episcopalian,  so  that 
you  will  like  that,  although  Maud  having  thought  best 
to  be  a  Presbyterian,  may  find  less  congeniality.  These 
things  make  little  difference  to  me  yet  awhile,  till  I  get 
my  fortune  and  reputation  made.  But  I  thought  you 
women  might  feel  an  interest.  (This  part  of  John's 
letter  did  not  please.) 


232  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  You  don't  know  how  much  effect  any  ordinary  West 
ern  orator  may  produce  in  these  parts.  Accustomed  to 
prosy  old  fogies,  the  life  and  animation  of  young  men — 
they  are  not  much  accustomed  to  listen  to  young  men — 
excites  their  astonishment. 

"  How  they  wondered  at  my  youth.  I  think  my 
policy  will  be  to  attach  myself  to  the  cause  of  young 
men,  and  raise  a  crusade  cry  for  their  rights.  Unless 
one  be  a  substantial  business  man  of  thirty-nine,  or  a 
grave  old  professor,  they  think  him  nobody.  The  con 
sequence  is,  that  they  are  all  behind  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  My  public  aim  is  to  bring  up  young  men  to  the 
consciousness  of  their  rights,  their  numbers,  and  their 
power.  Of  course  I  shall  lose  nothing  by  having  such 
a  party  to  support  me.  But  so  that  the  good  of  the 
public  is  advanced  I  feel  no  scruple  about  advancing 
my  own  interests. 

"  The  health  of  both  aunts  is  very  good.  Aunt  Vir 
ginia  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  old-school  spinster  lady. 
Her  society  is  as  much  sought  after  as  ever.  Aunt 
Carrie  sees  well  enough  to  do  almost  everything  but 
read  and  sew.  But  she  thinks  she  would  give  up  every 
thing  else  now  to  enjoy  them.  Thus  it  is  always.  I 
continue  to  live  with  them,  although  my  office  is  in  the 
city.  I  owe  everything  to  them,  especially  to  Aunt 
Virginia,  who  has  been  so  ambitious  for  me.  But 
Carrie  has  taken  best  care  of  my  clothes,  and  made  me 
read  the  Bible  to  her  every  day.  I  hope  the  day  may 
come  when  I  can  give  better  heed  to  the  precious  doc- 


JOHN     MARCH     ABOUT     TO     RISE.  238 

trines  she,  and  you,  and  Maud  love  so  well.  But  like 
everybody  else  who  has  said  everything  there  was  to 
say,  I  am  beginning  to  preach,  so  good  night.  God 
bless  you  all. 

"Thine,  ever, 

"  JOHN." 


234  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 

THE   YOUNG   COMMODORE. 

ON  returning  to  his  castle,  did  Mr.  Magroy  notice 
Mrs.  Polyphemia  Fidgets'  face  at  the  window  ?  Did  he 
see  her  shrink  away  ?  Did  the  good  man  of  the  house 
know  that  his  worst  enemy  still  presided  over  the  con 
cerns  of  that  abode  of  peace  and  happiness  ? 

Mrs.  Poly  had  but  one  eye,  yet  Mrs.  Polyphemia  saw 
a  long  way.  For  instance,  she  saw  that  the  illumination 
of  her  master's  mind  concerning  a  variety  of  little 
matters,  was  nothing  more  than  a  rift  in  the  cloud,  which 
must  soon  close  again,  making  darkness  darker.  Mean 
time,  she  saw  it  was  her  policy  to  keep  out  of  his  way 
• — she  would  soon  render  her  services,  her  very  presence, 
nay,  her  counsels,  necessary  ;  for  even  that  massive,  com 
pact  mind  must  put  forth  little  tendrils,  feeling  for  sym 
pathy. 

Mr.  Magroy  closeted  with  his  will  and  his  Bible  ;  he 
changes  one  and  consults  the  other  daily.  ISTow  he  is 
seen  busy  writing,  and  again  he  compares  himself  with 
all  scriptural  characters,  from  outcast  Adam  to  the 
stricken  widow  of  Nam. 

By  artful  and  gradual  approaches,  the  spider  Fidgets, 


THE     YOUNG     COMMODORE.  235 

drew  the  great  blue-bottle  fly  Magroy,  into  the  toils  of 
her  mazy  net.  In  less  than  a  month  she  had  gained  an 
influence  over  her  victim,  more  powerful  than  ever.  It 
may  be  needless  to  say  that  the  light  which  had  lately 
broken  in  upon  his  troubled  soul  with  reference  to  the 
Marches,  the  fear,  the  shame  and  the  self-reproach,  all 
gradually  vanished,  and  left  him  a  blind  listener  to  the 
insinuations  of  Mrs.  Fidgets.  A  new  element  soon 
mingled  in  the  blindfold  war  raging  within  him — avarice. 
Mr.  Magroy  never  had  been  an  avaricious  man — never 
since  the  period  of  his  youth — Money  was  lavished 
upon  Mrs.  Magroy  more  profusely  than  that  prudent 
woman  required.  Allen  knew  no  stint  until  he  left  the 
paternal  roof.  Even  Mrs.  Fidgets  had,  until  now,  lived 
in  silks  and  clover. 

Now,  Mr.  Magroy  is  a  miser. 

This  interesting  change  in  our  neighbor's  character 
first  came  known  to  us,  on  the  occasion  of  Guilford's 
calling  to  pay  the  last  installment  on  Lilac  Cottage. 

"  Mr.  Guilford  March,  I  believe,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Magroy,  as  iny  brother  entered  the  office. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Magroy,"  replied  the  latter  respectfully. 

"Your  mother,  sir?" 

"Is  well,  Mr.  Magroy." 

"  Is  a  what  ?"  he  cried. 

"  Quite  well,  sir." 

"  My  son  been  to  your  house  of  late,  as  much  as  ever 
I  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  he  has  not  entered  our  house  for  years." 


236  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  All  the  same  !  all  tlie  same !"  he  muttered,  "  under 
stood  thing,  conspiracy,  waiting  for  the  old  man's  shoes. 
— I'll  fool  them  yet,"  he  exclaimed,  looking  fiercely  at 
Guilford. 

But  happily  he  caught  sight  of  the  little  canvas  bag 
in  which  Guilford  had  brought  the  silver  and  gold  for 
the  payment.  His  eyes  glistened  with  unnatural  fire  as 
he  looked,  forgetting  everything  else. 

"  Ah !  I  know  you  want  to  pay,  sir.  Let  me  see  the 
coin !  the  coin,  sir  !  quick  !"  and  the  poor  creature — 
poor  with  all  his  wealth,  learning,  and  honors — hurriedly 
advanced  to  clutch  the  object  of  greed. 

Guilford  drew  back,  saying  firmly — 

"  Stay  Mr.  Magroy,  you  forget  yourself,  sir.  The 
papers  first — the  bill  of  sale,  note,  deed." 

"  Oh !  yes,"  he  answered,  in  a  plaintive  tone,  that 
ancient  over-bearing  temper  humbled  to  the  dust. 

The  papers  were  delivered  as  soon  as  the  trembling 
miser  had  counted,  weighed,  and  inly  devoured  each 
piece  separately,  as  he  took  it  from  the  bag.  Guilford 
felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  as  he  took  in  possession  the  evi 
dences  of  Mrs.  March's  sole  estate  in  Lilac  Cottage. 

He  gave  notice  to  Mr.  Magroy,  that  he  should  ere 
long  repurchase  the  cut-off"  lot,  and  bidding  him  good- 
morning,  he  went  home  to  make  holiday  with  the 
family. 

Not  long  afterwards,  Guilford  was  surprised  to  see 
Mr.  Magroy  enter  the  counting-room  of  the  warehouse. 
He  passed  through  the  office  without  deigning  to  notice 


THE     YOUNG     COMMODORE.  237 

my  brother,  and  held  a  long  conference  with  Mr.  May. 
flower  in  the  private  business  apartment.  Shortly  Mr. 
Magroy  passed  through  again,  went  out ;  Mr.  Mayflower 
came  in,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Guilford,  what  do  you  think  old  Mr.  Magroy  has 
proposed  ?" 

"What,  sir?" 

"  Why,  to  enter  into  a  co-partnership  with  me,  ha !  ha  ! 
ha!  as  if  I'd  have  such  a  glum  old  fur-trader  prying 
around  my  establishment." 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  my  brother,  "  under  the  present 
state  of  the  finances,  his  money  bags  might  help  you 
out  of  your  difficulties." 

"  I  thought  of  that  too.  But  what  do  you  think  was 
the  condition  upon  which  he  was  to  favor  me  with  his 
assistance  ?"  > , 

"  I  cannot  imagine,  sir,"  said  Guilford,  nibbing  a  pen 
with  his  knife. 

"  On  the  easy  condition  that  I  discharge  you." 

At  that  moment  the  edge  of  my  brother's  pen-knife 
went  through  the  pen,  and  almost  through  the  thumb 
nail. 

"What,  sir?" 

"That  I  discharge  you." 

"  Mr.  Mayflower,  if  that  is  the  only  obstacle  I  pray 
you  not  to  hesitate  to  " — 

"  Not  a  word !  not  a  word  more,  my  dear  fellow.  I've 
known  you  from  childhood.  Your  father  was  my  early 
model,  sir.  I  reverenced  him.  Your  mother,  sir,  has 


238  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

a  name  more  precious  than  her  lost  fortune.     But  what 
do  you  think  I  told  my  old  Scotch  friend  ?" 

"  That  your  friendship  for  my  father  and  mother  " — 

"  No,  sir,  not  a  word  of  it.  I  said  you  were  the  best 
clerk  in  the  city,  on  dock  or  street,  and  destined  to 
become  one  of  the  first  business  men  in  this  community, 
and  that  it  was  my  intention  next  spring  to  take  you  into 
the  concern  as  partner.  That  is  if  you  " — 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Mayflower  !" 

"  Not  a  word  my  dear  friend" — Many  gentlemen  would 
have  said  my  dear  young  friend,  and  looked  the  patron. 
But  Mr.  Mayflower  was  a  gentleman  of  simple — per 
haps  plain  manners. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  share  my  hot  water  awhile, 
Guilford,  I  think  that,  with  your  young  blood  fully 
roused,  we  may  weather  the  present  storm.  The  sun 
will  come  out — must  come  out — my  dear  fellow." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say  we'll  do  very  well.  Egad  !  we'll  begin 
right  off." 

And  the  firm  became  Mayflower  &  March. 

There  were  not  a  few  things  in  Guilford's  present 
mode  of  life — to  say  nothing  of  its  contrast  with  his 
experience  with  Sortem  and  the  Skeleton — that  grati 
fied  my  brother.  His  senior,  Mr.  Mayflower,  was 
an  ambitious,  sanguine,  though  practical  man,  who 
delighted  in  "hot  water,"  as  he  called  it.  That  is, 
having  a  new  steamer  or  sail  vessel  on  the  stocks  while 
yet  embarrassed  with  the  last  dozen  outfits,  pushing 
ahead  of  all  competitors  on  the  lakes,  giving  employ- 


THE      YOUNG     COMMODORE.  239 

ment  to  thousands  of  needy  sailors  and  ambitious 
artisans,  challenging  sister  cities  for  competitions,  and 
carrying,  or  rather  staggering  under  pecuniary  burdens 
that  would  crush  a  score  of  less  able  men  together. 
All  he  wanted,  he  said,  was  a  little  more  "young 
blood,"  and  now  he  has  it. 

These  excitements  aroused  the  best  energies  of  Guil- 
ford  March.  If  he  had  genius,  it  lay  in  contrivances, 
or  fetching  things  about,  and  now  all  the  powers  of  his 
mind  were  drawn  into  play  by  a  business  demanding 
great  ability.  It  had  likewise  its  pleasures.  The  rivalry, 
the  patronage,  the  launch,  the  contract  with  sailors  and 
shipbuilders — frank,  hearty,  honest,  friendly,  often  dis 
interested  classes  both — quickened  and  ennobled  the 
pulse  of  life.  His  early  fondness  for  the  water,  too,  was 
gratified  in  a  modified,  but  agreeable  form.  He  went 
at  times  from  port  to  port,  crossing  the  wind-tossed 
white  caps  of  Lake  Erie,  or  the  many-hued  surface  of 
Lake  Huron ;  he  dashed  down  the  rapids  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  sailed  beneath  the  picture  rocks  of  grand 
old  unknown  Superior — passing  on  his  way,  or  pausing 
to  gaze  upon  the  Arch  Rock,  and  Sugar  Loaf,  where  the 
mythologic  Indian  gods  once  dwelt  in  Mackinaw — the 
Mount  Olympus  of  the  Red  man — but  still  more  nearly 
interesting  to  Guilford  as  the  scenes  of  his  father's 
gentle  intercourse  with  Indians  and  Frenchmen. 

By  degrees  my  brother  acquired  a  sort  of  a  sailor  roll 
in  his  gait ;  the  people  called  him  the  young  commo 
dore.  His  firm  regard  for  truth,  together  with  the  frank 


240  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

heartiness  of   his  manner,  rendered   the   good-looking 
young  fellow  both  estimable  and  popular. 

Dock  life,  so  to  call  Guilford's  present  career,  gives 
rise  to  a  peculiar  species  of  men.  To  be  sure,  there  is 
a  flavor  of  tar  and  oakum  perceptible,  yet  tar  and 
oakum  are  often  valuable  to  fill"  the  chinks  of  leaky 
vessels ;  and  bluff,  hearty,  even  rough  usages  may  tend 
to  stop  the  small  crevices  of  a  weak  nature — the  better 
able  to  buffet  with  the  waves  of  life.  A  man  on  the 
dock  is  apt  to  be  sound,  and  tough-hearted  for  the  right, 
and  independent,  combining  part  of  the  bluff  honesty 
of  the  sailor,  and  part  of  the  thriving  industry  of  the 
landsman.  He  launches  vessels,  on  whose  decks  little 
communities  live  and  labor,  and  do  battle  with  wind 
and  wave.  He  hears  of  them  in  distant  ports,  and  his 
interests  and  sympathies  stretch  abroad  to  them.  Hun 
dreds,  perhaps  thousands,  with  their  wives  and  little 
ones,  depend  upon  his  enterprise  and  calculation,  his 
prudence,  foresight  and  humanity.  And  he  feels  a 
sense  of  power.  Power,  that  necessity  to  a  human 
being,  the  element  which  tries  him,  the  scale  which 
weighs  him,  and  makes  known  what  manner  of  BOU! 
he  is.  Under  such  influence  my  brother  G-uilford 
developed  gradually  into  the  full  stature  of  a  man.  With 
less  favoring  gales,  less  refreshing  dews,  a  less  life- 
darting  sun,  Guilford  might  have  come  short  of  the 
standard,  but  some  sort  of  a  giant  he  would  have  been, 
though  a  stunted  giant. 

Guilford  became  the  acknowledged  head  of  the  family. 


THE     TOTING     COM  MO  MOKE.  24:1 

"  Walter,"  said  he,  one  day,  as  lie  came  in  to  dinner, 
"you  must  go  to  "Washington." 

"  How  so  ?"  I  inquired,  with  a  thrill  of  surprise  and 
hopeful  expectation. 

He  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket. 

"M.  Latrobe  says  so — here  is  the  letter." 

I  took  it  and  read. 

"Mr  DEAR  GUILFORD: 

"  Things  are  in  such  a  state  of  hodge-podge  here  (he  meant 
hotch-pot)  the  Member  and  each  Senator  his  favorite,  and  none  of  ua 
having  Ventente  cordials  towards  the  administration,  that  I  think  your 
brother  had  better  come  on  himself.  I  will  help  him  all  I  can.  It  is 
his  only  chance.  Make  my  compliments  to  the  ladies,  and  believe  me 
with  lively  sentiments. 

"Your  friend, 

"JACQUES  LATROBE." 


11 


242  SHOETAC     RECOLLECTIONS 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   DKUM   BEATS. 

M.  LATKOBE'S  letter  was  submitted  to  Major  Fon- 
tenoy,  my  military  and  mathematical  friend  and  adviser, 
in  a  council  of  war  held  in  the  third  story  of  the  ware 
house,  whose  window  fronted  on  the  beautiful  straits, 
whence  in  summer- time  the  cool  breezes  came  in,  laden 
with  the  freshness  of  the  lakes. 

"  My  advice,  my  boy,  is  to  go,  hey  !" 

"  The  only  obstacle  I  see,  lies  in  the  pecuniary  cir 
cumstances  of  my  friends.  I  cannot  bear  to  encumber 
them  with  the  expense." 

"  As  for  that,  Walter,"  said  Guilford,  "  I  think  we'll 
manage  it  for  you." 

"Who?  what  'we?'" 

"Well,  myself." 

"  No  !  no  !"  said  I,  "  you  have  just  put  on  the  harness 
of  responsibility  " — I  always  liked  to  deal  in  metaphor 
• — "  and  you'd  better  not  pall  yourself  out  of  the  traces 
oil  the  first  stage." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  rigmarole  ?" 

"  Why,  have  you  not  come  into  this  concern  of  May- 


THE     DRUM      BEATS.  243 

flower  &  March,  without  a  penny,  and  is  not  the 
establishment  embarrassed  ?  "What  would  your  partner 
say  to  your  plunging  your  arm  into  the  purse  first  thing  ? 
Besides  you  know  there's  the  lot  to  purchase." 

"  Commodore,"  said  Major  Fontenoy  to  Guilford, 
"  step  this  way,  hey  !  Any  bank  checks  in  the  count 
ing  room  ?" 

"Major!" 

"  Never  mind,  old  patriarch,  hey !  all  right  one  of 
these  bright  sunny  days  ahead,  hey !  you  are  in  deep 
water  now.  "Walter  is  my  boy,  hey !  romantic  youth, 
rather  flighty.  I  was  once,  myself,  hey !  But  my  boy, 
my  l>oy,  hey  !" 

The  end  of  the  stage  whisper  was  that  the  major  soon 
came  back  to  the  council  of  war,  with  the  military  chest 
full,  i.  e.,  a  check  for  two  hundred  dollars,  which  he 
placed  in  my  hand  with  the  remark, 

"  There  is  the  sinew  of  war,  my  "Walter,  hey !  "We 
allies  must  subsidize  each  other,  hey  !" 

"  JS"o,  sir."  I  said  firmly,  returning  the  check.  Then 
a  tear  came  straining  its  way  through  my  heart  to  my 
eye.  I  turned  towards  the  wrindow  and  looked  out  on 
the  water. 

"  Julius  Caesar !  what  does  the  boy  mean  ?"  said  the 
major,  coloring  and  dropping  his  snuff-box  from  the 
crook  of  his  maimed  arm. 

Guilford  respected  my  emotion,  and  was  grave  and 
silent. 

"  Major,"  I  said,  turning  round  and  taking  his  hand 


244  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

between  both  of  mine,  "  I  know  your  heart.  I  shall 
always  love  you  next  to  my  brother  Guilford,  but  sir — 
I  will  walk  to  Washington." 

The  major  started  back  amazed. 

"Long  march,  "Walter.  Forty  days.  Snow  on  the 
ground  too,  hey  !" 

Guilford  placed  his  hand  over  the  major's  and  mine. 

"  Do  not  say  a  word  to  deter  him,  sir." 

"  Walter  you  are  a  man!'1'' 

We  all  three  shook  hands. 

The  council  of  war  broke  up. 

I  walked  up  home  and  communicated  my  resolution 
to  my  mother.  She  turned  very  pale  but  said  nothing 
till  afterwards.  Mabel  came  in.  When  she  heard  the 
news  she  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck  and  kissed 
me. 

"  Walter,  dear  Walter,"  she  said,  "  you  will  never 
come  back  to  little  Mabel." 

I  was  confirmed  at  once  in  the  opinion  that  my  float 
ing  doubts  of  Mabel's  love  were  mere  fleecy  figments 
of  the  brain.  My  mother  left  the  library. 

"  Darling  Mabel,"  I  said  soothingly,  "  I  shall  see 
thee  again  in  thirty  months.  I  will  be  true  to  thee." 

"  Don't  talk  so !"  she  shudderingly  cried.  "  She  refers 
to  my  being  absent  so  long,"  I  said  to  myself. 

"  ISTay  darling,"  quoth  I,  "it  will  pass  more  slowly  to 
me  than  to  thee." 

Mabel  withdrew  from  my  arms. 

"  Walter,"  she  said,  "  when  you  are  away  from  home 


THE     DRUM     BEATS.  245 

in  the  great  world,  it  may  give  you  pleasure — if  they  do 
not  spoil  the  dashing  young  officer  " — she  parenthesized 
mischievously — "  it  may  sometimes  give  you  pleasure 
to  think  of  your  little  Mabel,  whose  doll  houses  you 
made  long  ago  under  the  lilac  bushes." 

"  Shall  I  not  always  think  of  thee,  dearest  ?"  I  cried. 

"  Walter,"  she  said,  "  don't  be  theatrical." 

"  What !"  said  I  on  my  knees,  "  may  I  not  call  thee 
dearest  ?  Are  you  not  my  own  divine  little  " — 

At  this  moment  who  should  appear  at  the  door  of  the 
library  but  Joram  Jumps,  the  tall  young  candidate  for 
divinity — of  another  sort  and  a  better. 

I  saw  nothing  through  the  perspective  tunnel,  but 
thought  I  heard  a  locomotive  whistle. 

"Whew!  whew!" 

And  the  train  was  off. 

Mabel  burst  out  laughing.  "  What  a  delightful  thing 
a  duel  would  be  between  the  rivals  !"  she  cried  as  she 
ran  to  the  door,  and  flew  through  the  hall,  leaving  me 
to  recover  from  my  astonishment  and  regain  my  feet. 

"  I  never  did  see  such  a  provoking  little  flirt !"  I 
exclaimed  aloud  with  bitterness.  "  And  such  a  wpather- 
cock !  At  one  moment  she  is  on  my  neck  ;  at  the  next 
she  is  mocking  the  deepest  and  holiest  of  feelings.  Now 
she  looks  pale,  and  trembles  at  my  coming ;  now  she 
avoids  me,  now  she  runs  up  to  me,  and  now  she  has  ran 
away  from  me.  By  Jove !  I  vow  I'll  give  her  up.  But 
that,"  said  I  to  myself  benevolently,  "  would  break  the 
child's  heart.  After  all  she's  nothing  but  a  child." 


246  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  "Who,  "Walter  ?"  inquired  a  soft  voice. 

"  Maud  can  you  unriddle  that  little  sphinx  ?" 

"What,  Mabel?' 

"To  be  sure." 

"  "What  is  the  matter  between  you  ?  you  always  got 
on  nicely  until  lately." 

"  Ever  since  that  Joram  Jumps  affair  between  them, 
she  has  blown  hot  and  cold,  been  one  thing  to-day,  and 
another  to-morrow.  If  I  seek  those  affectionate  caresses 
formerly  my  wont  to  enjoy,  she  teazes  me  to  death." 

"How  so?" 

"  One  moment  she  weeps  and  the  next  she  laughs." 

"  Why,  Walter,  since  your  grand  affair  with  Dulcinea, 
don't  you  understand  the  sex  yet  ?" 

"No!"  said  I,  bluntly,  "not  the  Mabel  Latrobe 
part." 

"Do  you  want  my  opinion?" 

"Yes." 

"  People  who  interfere  between  lovers  generally 
suffer  for  it." 

"  You  shall  not  suffer — at  my  hands  at  least,  dear 
Maud.  I  really  need  some  sisterly  counsel." 

"  Well,  Walter,"  she  said,  as  we  seated  ourselves 
together  on  the  lounge,  "  you  think  yourself  in  love  ?" 

"  I  am  in  love !"  I  exclaimed.     "  I  can  scarcely  recol- 

"V1         I         TT 

lect  the  formula  x2  y2  =  — ^-—    for  thinking  of  her." 

Maud  laughed.  "  You  test  it  mathematically,"  she  said. 
"The  next  best  test  is  analogy,  but  as  analogy  does 


THE     DEUM     BEATS.  247 

not  always  lead  to  certainty  "  • I  said,  quoting  from 

the  book. 

"  Why,  you  remember  very  well,"  said  Maud,  laugh 
ing.  "  But  come,  let  us  look  soberly  at  this  problem, 
if  you  please.  You  think  you  love  Mabel." 

"  I  know  it !  I  know  it  1" 

"  You  thought — nay,"  she  added,  looking  slily  at  me, 
"you  'knew  that  you  loved  Dulcinea." 

"  Dulcinea  !"  I  exclaimed,  impatiently — "what  a 
comparison  !  a  sheep  to  a  gazelle  !" 

"  The  only  difference  is  that  then  you  were  sheepishly 
in  love  with  Dulcinea,  and  now  you  are  gazelle-ishly  in 
love  with  Mabel." 

"  Maud,  you  will  drive  me  mad  !" 

"  The  soft,  wild  eyes  of  your  gazelle  will  probably 
haunt  your  dreams,  and  kindle  your  imagination  as 
those  things  generally  do  with  poets" — 

I  inclined  my  head  to  acknowledge  the  compliment — 
being  reckoned  among  poets. 

"  But  you  have  never  had  the  yearnings  and  sympa 
thies  of  your  heart  unfolded  to  you  by  the  pitiless  hand 
of  time,  or  the  chilling  influences  of  experience,  or 
even  the  heat  of  passion!  so  that  Walter,  my  dear 
brother,  you  have  no  sort  of  idea  what  will  or  will  not 
make  you  happy." 

u  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  studying  my  own 
heart  since  a  child ;  I  have  looked  into  its  deepest 
depths,  and  see  nothing  but  Mabel  ever  reflected  there." 

"Pardon  me,  Walter,  but  that  depends  upon  your 


248  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

humor,  or  the  train  of  your  fancies.  Looking  down 
into  those  awful  and  mysterious  depths  is  no  trifle. 
You  may  once  have  had  them  moved  to  the  very 
bottom  when  he  died" — she  glanced  at  my  father's 
picture- — "  but  since  then  your  thoughts  have  played 
more  sportively,  and  now  you  see  in  the  dark,  deep 
reflector  nothing  but  phantasmagoria  of  fame — a  poet's, 
a  hero's,  a  philanthropist's  fame." 

My  sister  had  read  me  exactly. 

"  Why,  Maud,  how  did  you  learn  all  this  ?  I  never 
thought  of  it  myself,  even :  your  hand  has  removed  the 
veil." 

She  went  on. 

"You  are  the  simplest  of  the  simple — a  child — to 
those  who  give  you  credit  for  a  little  genius." 

I  actually  kissed  Maud  warmly. 

"But,"  said  she,  "your  greatest  enemy  may  prove 
this  very  genius.  Above  disguise,  working  out  its  wild, 
yet  simple  nature,  in  acts  at  war  with  all  worldly 
people's  notions  of  propriety,  you  will  be  alternately 
mistaken  for  a  madman,  a  simpleton,  and  a  rogue." 

"  Why,  Maud !  Maud  !" 

"  Kemember  the  warning,  Walter :  it  will  come  up 
many  and  many  a  time  unless  you  begin  now  to  impose 
a  wearying  burden  upon  yourself." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Every  sort  of  self-restraint — over  your  temper,  your 
fancy,  your  reflections,  which  will  always  be  tinctured 
too  warmly  with  the  inner  glow  to  enable  you  to  see 


THE      DRUM     BEATS. 

clearly  the  cold,  grey  substance  of  matters  of  fact. 
You  must  keep  down  your  heart,  your  good  impulses, 
yes,  your  very  religion  itself,  which  will  be  but  too  apt 
to  oscillate  from  the  extreme  of  emotion  to  the  opposite 
extreme  of  skepticism.  Finally,  your  sympathies  must 
be  rigidly  restrained." 

" My  sympathies  !"  I  exclaimed,  "the  sweet  sources 
of  my  happiness  ?" 

"  The  sweet  sources  of  your  transports,  which  you 
must  learn  to  moderate,  and  the  sweet  sources  of  your 
love  affairs,  which  you  must  not  indulge  in  too  far." 

"Not  too  far?" 

"  A  certain  amount  of  experience  in  love's  extrava 
gances  will  be  useful,  in  fact  necessary  to  your  settle 
ment  in  the  land  of  content." 

"  Where  I  never  care  to,  and  never  would  settle  if  I 
could,"  I  cried.  "  A  sort  of  discontent  is  the  source  of 
all  effort,  all  progress,  the  load-stone  to  heaven  itself — • 
discontent  with  the  low — aspirations  after  the  lofty." 

"  Wait  Walter.  I  mean  in  plainer  terms,  that  in 
order  to  be  contented  with  a  wife,  one  must  first  enjoy — 
with  such  a  ranging  thought  as  yours — a  pretty  exten 
sive  acquaintance  with  various  women,  and  no  little 
heart  experience  mixed  with  it.  Now  I'll  venture  to 
say,  that  you  never,  in  all  your  life,  have  gone  so  far  as 
to  inquire  what  sort  of  companion  would  be  best  suited 
to  your  temperament." 

"  Yes  I  have." 

"Who,  then?" 

11* 


250  SnOETAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Guilford." 

'But  you  stray  from  the  subject.  Of  course  I  mean 
by  companion,  a  wife,  since  you  will  thus  prematurely 
vex  your  soul  with  subjects  of  this  nature." 

"  What  a  pity,  Maud,  you  are  my  sister  !  I  would  drop 
down  on  my  knees  before  you  this  moment  and  sue  for 
your  hand." 

"There!  there!"  cried  Maud  rising  from  her  seat, 
"you  have  forgotten  Mabel  in  half  an  hour!" 

I  must  confess  that  I  blushed  and  stammered. 

"  You  must  study  yourself,  "Walter,  learn  the  wants 
of  your  peculiar  nature,  those  things,  I  mean  by  wants, 
which  shall  not  only  produce  enjoyment,  but  promote 
peace,  self-respect,  and  sober,  deliberate  satisfaction." 

"  But  do  you  think  Mabel  and  I  are  suited  to  each 
other  ?" 

"  You  said  just  now  that  Guilford  was  the  sort  of 
temperament  for  you." 

"  Yes." 

"Guilford  and  Mabel  are  very  different.  Besides, 
are  you  suited  to  Mabel  ?" 

"  What  a  cold  reasoner  you  are  !" 

"  Dear  Waiter  !"  said  Maud  reproachfully. 

"  Well,  go  on." 

"Two  things  divide  a  man's  life  and  thoughts,  a 
career  and  a  home.  I  know  not  which  is  most  impor 
tant,  but  if  he  is  so  careful  in  selecting  the  former,  is 
governed  so  completely  by  his  idiosyncrasy,  as  one  may 
say,  the  latter  deserves  at  least  deliberation." 


THE     DKUM     BEATS.  251 

"  Unless,"  said  I,  "  unless  accident  does  the  busi 
ness." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Maud  gravely,  "  accident  has  mucli  to 
do  with  such  things,  chiefly  the  accident  propinquity, 
as  for  instance  in  this  case."  She  looked  at  me  archly. 

"  But  speaking  of  temperaments,"  Maud. 

"  "Well,  Walter,  do  you  think  Mabel  could  ever  love 
and  respect  you  as  she  might,  Guilford  2" 

"  No  I  don't,"  said  I  frankly. 

"  She  ought  to,"  said  Maud  musingly,  "  but  I  fear,  I 
fear  "— 

"  Dear  Maud  !"  I  kissed  my  sister  again.  "  You  are 
not  only  an  angel,  as  I  have  called  you  a  hundred 
times,  but  you  are — as  somebody  else  once  said — '  a 
goddess.' ': 

Maud  blushed  and  looked  pained,  as  any  allusion  to 
Major  Fontenoy  always  made  her  look. 

She  was  going. 

"  Stay  one  moment  till  I  return,"  quoth  I. 

In  a  moment  I  was  back  with  my  hands  full  of  laurel 
leaves  and  holly,  that  grew  in  the  garden. 

"  Let  me  make  a  wreath  for  you,  Maud,  I  will  twine 
it  around  your  hair  ;  the  contrast  between  its  fair  color 
and  the  dark  green  leaves,  will  have  a  pretty  effect 
They  are  ever-green,  and  the  wreath  will  last  long  after 
I  am  gone." 

"  What !  are  you  going  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  Washington.  If  I  succeed  as  I  hope  to,  1 
shall  thence  to  West  Point." 


252 


SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS 


"  God  will  bless  you,   Walter,   you  are  one  of  his 
lambs." 

Maud  dropt  a  tear,  which  added  a  bright  diamond  to 
the  wreath. 

"  I  will  weave  a  chaplet  for  you,  Walter." 

"  What  shall  it  be,  Maud  ?" 

"  Laurel  and  Bay." 

I  brought  in  the  leaves  from  the  garden  and  laid  them 
on  her  lap.  In  a  few  moments  I  had  plaited  the  wreath 
and  placed  it  on  her  head.  She  looked  more  beautiful 
than  the  purest  work  of  Grecian  art. 

"Now  kneel,  sir  knight!"  she  cried,  raising  the 
chaplet. 

I  knelt  before  her. 

"Laurel  and  Bay,"  Maud  said  with  simplicity, 
"  Soldier  and  poet.  Be  this  thy  motto : 

"  Moderate  your  transports  /" 


IN      MOTION.  253 


CHAPTEE    XXVII. 

IN   MOTION. 

THE  busy  note  of  preparation  resounded  through  the 
house.  There  were  clothes  to  make  which  Maud  and 
Mabel  sat  up  nights  to  help  my  mother  finish.  Major 
Fontenoy  took  me  to  the  saddler's  and  ordered  a  knap 
sack,  which  fitted  nicely  on  my  shoulders,  and  contained 
my  wardrobe  and  simple  toilet.  There  came  up  to  the 
house  one  evening  two  pairs  of  shoepacks  from  an 
unknown  quarter — probably  Allen  Magroy  sent  them. 
My  mother  put  in  the  knapsack  the  smallest  copy  of  a 
Bible  to  be  found  at  the  Sunday  School  Repositories. 
Guilford  gave  me  a  purse  for  incidental  expenses,  and 
Major  Fontenoy  slipped  there  unknown  to  me  a  draft  on 
the  bank. 

"  A  plaster  in  case  lie  should  be  sick  on  the  march, 
hey !"  he  said  to  Guilford. 

The  Kev.  Mr.  Cradle  gave  me  a  letter  to  a  brother 
clergyman  in  Washington. 

There  was  a  snow-storm  the  night  before  I  was  to 
leave.  Allen  came  up  through  it  to  Lilac  Cottage, 
inquired  at  the  door  for  Walter.  Bowes  came  and  told 


254:  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

me,  rubbing  her  hands  upon  her  apron,  that  a  gentle 
man  wished  to  see  me.  Allen  took  a  little  pearl  breast 
pin  from  his  shirt-bosom,  and  pinned  it  on  mine,  then 
wished  me  a  safe  journey  and  good  luck,  and  departed, 
wringing  my  hand.  The  major  spent  the  evening  with 
us,  looking  at  Maud  while  he  gave  me  my  "  orders,"  as 
he  called  them.  I  was  to  commence  walking  no  more 
than  ten  miles  a  day.  I  was  to  beware  of  politicians, 
except  M.  Latrobe  and  Colonel  Sedgelield — who  were 
not  politicians.  I  was  to  take  a  letter  he  gave  me  to 
the  commander-in-chief.  I  was  to  see  the  secretary  of 
war.  I  wras  to  ask  M.  Latrobe  whether  it  wouldn't  be 
useful  to  see  the  President  of  the  United  States.  Per 
haps  the  letter  to  the  clergyman  might  be  useful.  I 
was  to  tell  my  business  to  nobody  but  those  who  it  was 
necessary  should  know  it. 

Allen  had  told  me  I  must  try  and  hear  Mr.  Clay 
speak.  Maud  told  me  I  must  not  be  too  much  of  a 
man,  but  treat  everybody  with  the  respect  and  courtesy 
that  my  mother  had  always  required. 

"You  may  be  surprised  on  being  thrown  among 
strangers  for  the  first  time,  to  see  many  older  and  richer 
than  you,"  Guilford  said,  "  who  appear  to  know  less. 
But  keep  your  own  ground,  and  listen  with  open  ears, 
for  you  will  soon  find  a  vein  of  substantial  ore  of  good 
sense  by  which  you  may  profit." 

Mabel  said  I  must  see  the  pictures  in  the  Rotunda, 
and  she  wrought  a  little  book-mark  for  me,  which  I  was 
not  to  look  at  till  the  first  night  of  my  tarrying  on  the 


IN     MOTION.  255 

road,  wliicli  I  then  found  embroidered  with  her  hair  in 
beautiful,  small  letters,  "  Dulcinea." 

Bowes  said  I  must  bathe  my  feet  in  ice-water  every 
morning.  My  mother  said  I  must  read  my  Bible  every 
night. 

I  took  leave  of  all  the  family  except  Guilford  :  neither 
of  us  slept  any  that  night.  The  stage  came  before  day 
light  next  morning.  The  driver  blew  a  tin  horn.  I 
was  to  ride  with  him  ten  miles  for  nothing,  for  it  was 
Abe.  Guilford  and  I,  though  great  youths,  kissed  each 
other.  I  jumped  on  the  driver's  box,  and  was  off  with 
a  heavy  heart.  A  few  miles  out,  I  wished  I  had  slept 
more  during  the  night,  for  there  was  no  catching  a  nap 
now  with  Abe,  \vho  whistled,  and  sang,  and  blew  his 
horn — though  he  kept  me  covered  up  with  a  horse- 
blanket. 

Abe,  on  reaching  the  end  of  his  drive,  consigned  me 
to  the  care  of  the  next  stage-driver,  whom  I  found  cross- 
grained,  unsociable,  and  cruel  to  his  horses.  So  I 
declined  his  surly  offer  of  being  "  turned  over,"  as  he 
called  it,  to  the  next  driver,  but  walked  the  rest  of  that 
day.  I  had  ridden  twenty  miles,  and  easily  walked  ten 
more.  The  snow  diminished  in  depth  as  I  advanced,  so 
that  I  found  little  on  my  second  day's  route,  and  easily 
walked  fifteen  miles.  Gradually  my  days'  journey 
increased  in  length  till  I  could  accomplish  my  thirty 
miles  a  day,  except  through  occasional  snow-drifts 
through  northern  Ohio.  But  then  I  was  sometimes 
favored  with  a  ride  on  top  of  "a  load  of  wood  or  flour, 


256  SHOEPAC     KECOL  LECTIONS. 

driving  into  market  towns ;  but  most  frequently  the 
teams  were  going  the  wrong  way,  or  I,  not  liking  the 
looks  of  the  driver,  would  not  ask  to  ride  with  him. 
At  night,  I  slept  in  the  bar-room — for  nothing — when 
there  were  no  noisy  men  smoking  or  drinking  in  it. 
Sometimes  I  called  for  a  room,  but  rarely,  they  put  me 
with  so  many  bedfellows.  I  generally  read  my  Bible 
a  little  on  the  road,  and  said  my  prayers  in  the  barn,  or 
in  the  woods,  on  the  wayside. 

Thus  I  travelled  all  through  Ohio,  and  by  the  Cum 
berland  road,  which  led  over  the  Alleghany  Mountains, 
through  a  part  of  Virginia,  into  Maryland.  A  moun 
tain  !  how  I  had  longed  to  see  one !  It  wore  as  pictur 
esque  a  form  in  my  imagination  as  an  Egyptian  Pyramid. 
I  was  disappointed  in  them  at  first.  They  were  not  so 
tall,  so  conical,  so  steep,  so  triangular,  as  I  had  thought. 
Few  had  snow-tops.  Here  and  there  I  saw  a  cascade 
half-congealed.  I  wished  it  were  summer,  so  I  might 
wander  from  the  road,  find  a  mountain  stream,  and 
trace  it  up  to  its  fountain  spring.  Laurel  Top  was 
grand. 

On  reaching  Cumberland,  I  first  saw  the  railway,  just 
completed  from  Baltimore.  I  did  not  like  walking  over 
the  dead  level  track  so  well  as  winding  over  the  uneven 
roads.  I  took  any  by-road  which  I  learnt,  on  inquiring, 
lost  me  no  great  distance.  I  took  great  interest  in  the 
appearance  of  the  fields,  and  negroes,  and  houses,  going 
through  Maryland.  Everything  was  different  from 
Ohio,  looking  older,  more  dilapidated,  and  more 


IN     MOTION.  25V 

respectable,  as  if  people  there  had  once  known  wealth 
and  hospitality. 

At  length  I  drew  near  Washington.  Possibly,  a  more 
detailed  account  of  the  journey  might  be  acceptable, 
but  our  story  is  too  far  advanced,  dear  reader,  to  detain 
you  concerning  boy- adventures  with  inn-keepers,  bar 
maids,  travellers,  peddlers,  drovers,  Boston  tailors, 
New  York  dandies,  philanthropists  with  patent  medi 
cines  or  Mormon  tracts.  Nor  shall  we  wait  to  tell 
much  of  the  man  who  put  me.  out  of  my  seat  in  the 
coach,  when  driving  through  a  snow-drift,  and  made 
me  ride  under  the  driver's  seat,  with  his — the  new 
comer's — valise,  until  the  passengers  held  a  sort  of  an 
indignation  meeting  in  my  favor. 

"He  is  only  a  boy!"  said  the  oppressor. 

"  He  has  his  rights !"  replied  one. 

"  He  shall  come  inside  ?"  cried  another. 

"  You  shall  ride  outside  yourself!"  exclaimed  a  third 
— a  tall,  dark  looking  fellow,  who  had  labored  in  the 
silver  mines  of  Mexico — to  the  oppressor. 

Accordingly  I  was  re-instated,  and  the  gentleman 
forced  to  ride  on  the  top  till  the  drift  was  passed  and  the 
storm  abated,  when  I  left  the  coach. 

Nor  shall  we  dwell  on  that  happy  meeting  I  saw 
between  a  young  husband  and  wife,  after  a  month's 
separation  ;  during  most  of  which  the  bride  mourned  her 
bridegroom  lost  in  the  snow  with  the  cattle  he  was 
driving.  Or  upon  the  burial  of  that  little  child  who 
died  in  the  emigrant's  wagon,  and  was  buried  in  the 


258  8HOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS  . 

forest  at  evening,  and  on  her  little  grave  a  white  pall  of 
snow  from  heaven  had  fallen  in  the  morning,  when  the 
emigrant's  family  went  weepingly  away,  leaving  their 
little  one  there. 

Many  I  met  were  curious  to  know  who  I  was,  with 
my  shoepacs,  and  white  blanket  coat  with  a  hood,  and 
red  stripes  around  the  borders  of  skirts  and  sleeves,  and 
my  knapsack — too  young  for  a  soldier,  and  going  the 
wrong  direction  for  an  emigrant.  They  took  me  for  a 
Mormon,  a  mail  carrier,  a  tract  distributer,  a  juggler,  an 
Indian  Theological  student.  One  swore  I  was  a  Green- 
lander  sent  on  special  business  to  "Washington,  to  see 
about  the  annexation  of  the  Arctic  regions ;  another 
swore  I  was  a  Chinese.  I  have  no  doubt  I  was  very 
green,  and  many  must  have  amused  themselves  at  my 
expense. 

How  my  heart  throbbed  as  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
great  buildings  of  Washington  !  Elated  by  pleasure  and 
pride,  I  exclaimed — 

"  See ! — there  are  the  proofs  that  I  am  no  longer  a 
dreamer,  but  a  doer  !  Who  knows  but  the  next  time  I 
approach  this  proud  city,  instead  of  being  afoot  and 
alone,  I  may  be  riding  in  some  triumphal  procession,  the 
cynosure  of  every  eye?" 

It  was  about  noon.  I  walked  up  the  steps  of  the 
capitol,  found  my  way  through  the  rotunda,  to  the 
Senate  ante-room,  and  sent  my  name  to  M.  Latrobe  by 
a  tall,  benevolent  looking  gentleman,  whom  I  was  aston 
ished  to  hear  called  the  doorkeeper. 


IN     MOTION.  259 

I  hoped  to  pass  among  the  crowd  unnoticed,  for  my 
shoepacs  made  no  noise,  but  my  knapsack  and  long  hair, 
and  even  the  shoepacs  themselves,  the  chief  source  of 
my  feeling  of  security,  must  have  caused  many  a  stare. 

M.  Latrobe  greeted  me  with  cordiality  and  affection, 
lie  even  embraced  me  in  his  arms,  and  took  me  into  the 
Senate  chamber.  He  had  heard  I  was  on  the  road, 
through  Mabel ;  expressed  the  greatest  surprise  at  such 
an  undertaking,  and  said — offering  me  his  snuff-box — 

"You  are  very  unfriendly,  Waltair." 

"  Why  so,  M.  Latrobe  ?" 

"  Not  to  draw  on  me,  and  ride  to  "Washington  in  a 
coach,  like  a  gentleman." 

I  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  which  made  me  sneeze,  and 
frightened  me  to  death  lest  I  should  disturb  the  Senate, 
and  be  called  to  order  by  the  Vice  President  of  the 
United  States.  A  tear  came  into  my  eye,  I  thanked 
him  tenderly,  for  his  kindness  touched  me,  but  said  with 
some  pride, 

"  It  may  be  more  gentlemanly  to  ride,  but  it  is  more 
soldierly  to  walk." 

M.  Latrobe  put  on  his  hat  and  a  blue  cloak,  which 
gave  him  a  senatorial  air.  We  went  out  the  eastern 
doorway  of  the  capitol,  took  our  seats  in  a  coach,  and 
drove  to  M.  Latrobe's  lodgings. 

"Who  keeps  the  house,  sir?"  I  inquired. 

"  A  widow  lady.  I  always  find  one  good  enough  to 
take  care  of  me." 

I  admired  his  benevolence,  and  have  always  since 


260  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

followed  his  example,  boarding,  when  I  could,  with 
widow  ladies.  But  some  widow  lady  boarding-house 
keepers,  are — well  no  matter. 

"  You  will  stay  here  with  me,  Waltair  ?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir!"  I  said,  "this  is  too  splendid  and 
expensive  for  me."  I  secretly  feared,  too,  I  might  be 
in  the  way  of  the  good  gentleman. 

"I  shall  feel  injured  in  my  feelings,  if  you  refuse  me 
the  pleasure  of  being  my  guest,  Waltair  !" 

And  so  a  room  was  assigned  me  not  far  from  his  own. 
He  then  left  me,  and  returned  to  the  Senate. 

I  locked  the  door  of  my  apartment,  and  read  in  com 
fort  my  little  Bible,  and  knelt  down  to  thank  Him  who 
bringeth  travellers  safe  on  their  way.  My  father  seemed 
bending  over  me  with  a  smile  in  his  mouth — that  sweet 
mouth,  now  freed  from  the  old  look  of  power  repressed. 
It  was  like  a  vision. 

After  changing  my  garments,  I  went  into  M.  Latrobe's 
room,  which  he  had  invited  me  to  make  my  head-quar 
ters  as  he  called  it;  and  where  I  found  some  choice 
books.  Racine,  Montaigne,  Montesquieu,  and  some 
English  philosophical  and  statistical  works,  which  I 
found  had  been  well  thumbed.  I  buried  myself  in  the 
arms  of  that  old  literary  dry  nurse,  Montaigne,  until 
the  reappearance  of  M.  Latrobe. 

We  went  down  to  dinner.  My  friend  took  me  to  the 
lady  of  the  house,  and  introduced  me  in  a  very  cordial, 
polished  way,  as  if  I  were  his  own  son.  She  was  a 
pleasant  little  Frenchwoman.  She  gave  me  a  seat  next 


SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS.  261 

my  friend,  who  sat  near  herself,  at  the  head  of  the 
table. 

I  soon  learned  that  the  lady  had  known  my  father, 
and  this  had  the  effect  of  making  me  feel  at  home. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  all  the  steps  we  took  in  the 
business  for  which  I  had  come.  There  were  several 
difficulties  to  be  encountered.  There  was  but  one 
member  of  Congress  from  our  State.  The  unrepresented 
faction  of  the  constituency,  however,  was  so  large  that 
we  were  allowed  two  cadets.  It  was  the  custom  gener 
ally  for  the  member  to  nominate  the  cadet,  but  as  there 
were  two,  the  matter  was  shared  between  the  member 
and  our  two  senators.  Yet  neither  senator  had  the 
power  of  nomination.  Thus  all  depended  upon  the 
member.  These  facts  we  learnt  by  visiting  the  secre 
tary  of  war,  the  engineer  bureau,  and  the  commander- 
in-chief.  To  the  last  I  delivered  Major  Fontenoy's 
letter.  The  commander-in-chief  expressed  much  plea 
sure  at  hearing  from  the  gallant  major,  whom  he  called 
an  ornament  to  the  army.  But  he  said  he  had  no  influ 
ence  in  the  administration  of  army  affairs,  was  con 
sulted  in  no  appointments  or  other  matters  of  moment. 
My  eyes  filled — I  had  such  weak  eyes — as  they  gazed 
upon  this  man,  one  of  the  two  pyramids  of  our  military 
history,  briefly  and  calmly  expressing  himself  as  a 
cypher  in  the  War  Department,  a  department  which  he 
had  invested  with  power,  and  covered  with  glory. 

"With  M.  Latrobe  then  I  went  to  the  member.  He 
received  us  politely,  seemed  somewhat  preoccupied,  had 


262  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

nothing  to  say  with,  reference  to  the  previous  application, 
but  was  rather  favorably  touched  by  the  fact  of  my  zeal 
and  labor,  coming  so  far. 

"  Quite  a  feat,  sir,  for  a  mere  stripling,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  M.  Latrobe.  "I  think  he  deserves 
the  prize  for  it." 

"  Hem — ah — yes — of  what  politics  was  your  father, 
Master  March  ?" 

"  A  Jefferson  man,  sir." 

"Ah!  I  did  not  know  that.  Your  ]S"ew  England 
brother,  sir,  is  a  whig,  sir,  he  has  done  us  some 
damage." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  somewhat  uplifted  by  talking 
politics  at  the  seat  of  government,  with  a  congressman, 
and  hearing  my  brother's  name  complimented.  "  But 
John  never  agreed  with  my  father,  or  Guilford,  or  even 
me  in  politics." 

"  Pray  what  are  you,  sir  ?" 

"  A  Jackson  man,"  I  said,  stoutly. 

"  Good  !  very  good !"  Mr.  Hustings  laughed  and 
rubbed  his  hands — a  slippery-looking  pair  of  hands 
"  Now,  sir,  what  is  your  mother  ?" 

"  My  mother,  sir  !"  I  echoed,  with  surprise. 

"  Yes,  sir,  her  politics  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  decline  the  honor  of  bringing 
my  mother's  name  in  question." 

Mr.  Hustings  began  to  look  displeased.  Fortunately 
M.  Latrobe  came  to  my  rescue. 

"  Ma  foi !    my  friend,"     he     said,    addressing    the 


IN     MOTION.  263 

member,  and  handing  his  snuff-box  with  the  air  of  a 
courtier  of  Louis  XIV.,  "you  must  not  endeavor  to 
convert  Mrs.  March  to  democracy.  She  belongs  to  our 
party,  sir!  She  is  a  member  of  the  party  for  home 
industry,  sir !" 

This  lively  sally  silenced  the  batteries  of  my  cross 
questioner ;  and  the  editor  of  the  organ  of  democracy  in 
our  city,  happening  in  at  the  moment,  and  greeting  me 
with  unmistakable  warmth,  our  friend  Mr.  Hustings, 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  perching  his  heels 
on  the  stove,  at  the  same  time  spitting  a  stream  of 
tobacco  juice  over  the  carpet,  said  in  a  loud,  patronizing 
voice, 

""Well,  there's  no  resisting  widows  and  orphans.  I 
suppose  I  must  give  him  a  letter."  We  arose  to  depart. 

"At  what  time  shall  my  friend  call  for  ze  lettar?" 
inquired  M.  Latrobe,  as  if  addressing  the  king  of 
France,  or  his  own  idol,  Napoleon  le  grand. 

"He  needn't  call,  senator,"  the  gentleman  said,  "I 
will  send  it  to  your  rooms."  We  left. 

As  soon  as  we  were  in  the  street,  M.  Latrobe  gave 
vent  to  his  disgust  and  contempt,  in  words  which  would 
have  edified  any  professed  politician  to  hear.  He 
ended  his  complimentary  discourse  by  saying,  "  I  know 
ze  breed,  Waltair !  we  will  watch  him.  Closely, 
closely,"  the  senator  repeated,  as  he  forced  a  large  pinch 
of  snuff  into  his  nostril. 

That  evening  Walter  called  on  his  excellency,  the 
President,  in  company  with  the  clergyman  to  whom  I 


264  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

bore  Mr.  Cradle's  letter.  His  excellency  was  very 
urbane,  but  Walter  was  both  surprised  and  disap 
pointed  :  surprised  at  himself  being  not  overwhelmed 
in  the  presence  of  so  great  a  man,  and  disappointed  in 
that  the  President  was  not  overwhelmed  to  hear  Walter 
had  travelled  so  far  on  foot.  Walter  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  there  was  nothing  now  to  astonish  or  be 
astonished  at  in  Washington — but  I  had  not  yet  heard 
Mr.  Clay  speak.  The  evening  passed  off  very  agreeably, 
however.  There  was  a  distinguished  man  present  from 
the  South,  with  a  noble,  frank,  easy  manner  of  address, 
reminding  me  of  some  of  our  home  gentlemen.  The 
conversation  turned  principally  on  political  reminiscen 
ces,  and  a  good  many  not  entirely  new  anecdotes  of 
John  Kandolph.  My  business  was  not  then  brought 
before  the  President,  as  that  would  not  have  been  the 
etiquette. 

M.  Latrobe  had  no  faith  in  our  decorous  friend,  Mr. 
Hustings,  and  it  was  now  thought  a  matter  of  prime 
importance  to  gain  the  ear  of  the  executive,  and  as 
sharp  political  differences  prevented  intercourse  between 
that  high  functionary  and  my  zealous  friend,  I  must 
needs  go  alone  to  the  audience  chamber. 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  265 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE    KITCHEN    CABINET. 

ARRIVED  at  the  White  House  next  morning,  I  rang 
the  porter's  bell  with  a  trembling  hand.  The  keeper  of 
the  king's  gate  was  an  Irishman,  illustrious  under  the 
reign  of  Andrew  the  Great,  and  not  unconcious  of  his 
importance  under  the  present  dynasty. 

"  I  wish  to  see  the  President." 

"  "What  a  lad !"  he  exclaimed,  with  assumed  amaze 
ment  ;  "  in  that  white  blanket  coat,  with  a  what  d'ye 
call  it,  a  night-cap  on  the  shoulders !" 

"  No,  sir  !"  retorted  I,  with  no  little  spirit.  "I  shall 
take  off  my  overcoat." 

"Well,"  he  resumed,  looking  with  well-feigned  fright 
at  my  shoepacs,  "d'ye  think  to  see  his  excellency  in 
those  "  •**• 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  exclaimed,  now  angry  ;  "  these  shoepacs 
are  the  gift  of  a  friend,  and  for  that  reason  I  value  them 
above  the  handicrafts  of  the  first  cobbler  in  Ireland." 

"  Arrah,  my  boy !  you're  a  spirited  fine  fellow, 
but  you  can't  see  his  excellency  to  day."  He  closed  the 
door  on  me,  but  re-opening  it  immediately,  thrust  out 
his  head,  and  added, 

12 


2C6  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Nor  to-morrow,  mi  lad,  nor" just  at  this  criti 
cal  moment  of  my  life,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  dog  in 
the  vestibule. 

"  Cap  !"  I  cried  joyfully,  "  Cap  !"  for  the  sight  of  any 
acquaintance  at  the  forlorn  moment  was  joyful,  and  it 
was  an  exquisite  stroke  of  policy-— to  seize  sudden  use 
of  whatever  advantage  my  familiarity  with  any  object 
inside  the  White  House  might  afford." 

"I  defy  common  sense  to  have  clone  it,"  said  I  to 
Guilford  afterwards. 

"  Arrah,  mi  lad,  do  you  know  the  nager  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  witli  perfect  coolness. 

"  Come  in  then,  come  in.  You're  a  broth  of  a  boy, 
any  way,  whoever  ye  are." 

I  walked  in  triumphantly,  and  after  getting  beyond 
the  Irish  gentleman's  sight,  Cap  along  with  me,  wagging 
his  tail,  I  loitered  in  the  hall  until  the  "  nager,"  whom 
I  felt  sure  of  knowing,  made  his  appearance.  For  my 
complete  relief  and  joy,  it  was  the  sheriff  himself. 

"Mason  or  Anti-Mason?"  I  cried. 

He  paused,  and  looked  doubtfully  at  me  a  moment — 
everybody  seems  to  suspect  you  in  Washington — then 
cried  out, 

"  Walter  March  !  why  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you." 

Cap  began  to  frisk  around  us,  as  if  himself  overjoyed 
at  the  recognition,  the  hesitation  of  which  had  doubtless 
surprised  him.  Dick  had  been  absent  from  our  city 
several  years. 

"Then  you've  turned  politician,  eh?" 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  261 

«  Yes." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  to  see  the  President  ?" 

"  That's  it  exactly." 

"I'll  manage  it.     Come  this  way,  Massa  "Walter." 

Dick  led  to  a  little  apartment  cheered  by  the  warm 
rays  of  a  large  wood  tire-place,  placed  in  front  of  which 
stood  an  immense  armed  and  cushioned  chair,  with 
leather  coverings.  Dick  planted  me  in  the  chair.  A  table 
stood  near,  covered  with  newspapers,  letters,  and  docu 
ments.  Dick  took  a  paper-knife,  and  cut  off  the  wrap 
pers  of  several  fresh-looking  papers,  which  he  shook  out 
in  front  of  the  fire,  and  placed  on  my  knee. 

"  Now  make  yourself  comfortable.  Massa  Walter,  and 
read  the  news  till  I  come  back.  Til  be  back  soon." 

And  Dick  took  my  name  on  a  card,  and  went  out  of 
the  room. 

I  found  myself  in  the  office  of  the  President's  private 
secretary ;  at  least  I  judged  so  from  the  papers  and 
letters  lying  on  the  table,  addressed  to  him. 

It  was  a  sharp,  cold  day,  and  I  was  glad  to  warm 
myself  for  an  interview  which  I  regarded  so  decisive  of 
my  fate,  as  to  send  a  chill  creeping  over  me. '  My  eyes 
wandered  vacantly  over  the  columns  of  a  gazette,  until 
Dick  returned. 

"  All  right,  Massa  Walter  ;  wait  a  few  minutes." 

"Why  do  you  call  me  '  massa,'  Dick  ?" 

"  'Cos  that's  the  fashion  down  these  parts." 

"  But  old  friends — you  know,  Dick." 

Dick  came  close  to  my  chair,  and  almost  whispered. 


268  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  I'd  rather  call  yon  massa,  than  some  big  folks  Dick 
knows." 

I  laughed,  and  the  rest  of  the  hour  was  spent  by 
Dick's  inquiring  after  Guilford,  and  Allen,  and  Abe, 
and  telling  his  adventures,  and  much  entertainment  did 
I  find  there  in  the  private  secretary's  room. 

I  wanted  to  ask  Dick  to  sing, 

"  Come  hither  blue-eyed  stranger," 

but  rather  doubted  the  propriety  of  such  a  request,  con 
sidering  the  place  and  circumstances. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  Dick,  you  haven't  told  me  yet  what 
office  you  hold  here,  nor  how  you  got  here." 

"  Oh,  keep  dark  !"  said  he. 

At  this  moment  a  little  bell  tingled,  and  my  warm 
hearted  friend  said  very  quietly, 

"  Time  to  go,  Massa  Walter." 

My  heart  leaped  as  though  it  would  break  its  barriers. 

"We  went  through  a  corridor,  and  entered  a  wide 
lobby,  along  the  walls  of  which  settees  were  arranged, 
and  occupied  by  a  crowd  of  well-dressed  gentlemen,  old 
and  young,  most  of  whom  wore  a  fagged  expression  on 
their  lengthy  jaws. 

"  Some  of  those  gentlemen  been  waiting  since  last 
Friday,"  whispered  Dick — this  was  Tuesday — "and 
some  on  'ern  will  never  get  in  !" 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Never  you  mind  !  keep  dark !"  replied  Dick,  with  a 
wink. 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  269 

He  stopped  a  moment  to  inquire  of  a  messenger  in 
waiting,  whether  any  one  had  gone  in  since  the  bell 
rang.  The  messenger  shook  his  head. 

Dick  then  advanced  boldly  to  the  door,  which  he 
opened,  and  announced,  with  a  loud  voice, 

"  Massa  "Walter  March!"  and  I  found  myself  in  the 
audience  chamber. 

The  President  recognized  me,  and  inquired  after  the 
health  of  my  reverend  friend  of  the  night  before. 

Then  he  said  good-humoredly, 

"  Well  Master  March,  what  emergency  of  state  affairs 
brings  vou  to  Washington  ?" 

o      «/  o 

My  story  was  soon  told. 

"  You  say,  then,  that  this  appointment  was  promised 
you  a  year  ago  ?"  said  the  President  kindly. 

"  Yes  sir — unsought." 

"And  that  you  collected  testimonials  which  were 
delivered  to  your  member,  for  filing  in  the  office  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir," 

And  that  neither  your  application  nor  the  testimonials 
are  in  file  at  the  engineer's  office?" 

"  Neither,  sir." 

"  But  now  this  member  promises  you  a  letter  to  the 
Engineer  Department  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  President  wrote  a  line  ;  touched  the  bell  on  the 
table.  Dick  appeared. 

"  Give  this  to  the  messenger — to  deliver  immediately 
— an  answer  required." 


270  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

Dick  bowed  and  withdrew  with  no  little  grace,  keep 
ing  his  face  towards  the  President  till  he  was  gone. 

The  President  took  up  a  document  which  he  perused. 
Soon  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Dick  announced 

"  Chief  engineer — War  Department." 

That  gentleman,  with  his  colossal  head,  advanced 
towards  the  President,  who  greeted  him  with  republican 
simplicity.  The  chief  engineer  did  me  the  honor  of  a 
bow,  and  took  his  seat. 

"  General,  our  young  Western  friend,  Mr.  March,  has 
walked  all  the  way  from  the  State  of  Michigan,  after  a 
cadet's  warrant." 

The  chief  engineer  bowed. 

"  I  regret,"  continued  the  President,  "  that  my  own 
list  is  already  filled.  Is  there  any  other  means  within 
our  reach  ?" 

"The  member  from  Mr.  March's  State  can  nominate 
him,  your  excellency." 

"  He  has  already  promised  our  friend  a  letter,"  said 
the  President. 

"A  letter,  your  excellency  knows,  is  not  always 
decisive.  Many  are  written  with  studied  no-mean 
ing." 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  the  President. 

"  Then,  sir,  all  we  can  do  for  you,  my  brave  lad,  is  to 
put  the  most  favorable  construction  possible,  on  any 
letter  your  member  may  give  you." 

His  excellency  extended  me  his  hand,  which  I  shook 
with  good  Western  warmth,  and  then  withdrew. 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  271 

Dick  held  the  door  open  before  I  had  fairly  readied 
it. 

"  What  luck  ?"  said  Dick  as  we  passed  down  the  hall, 
the  gentlemen  waiting  audience  regarding  me  with 
peculiar  looks. 

"  Good,  I  hope  ?"  inquired  Dick,  noticing  that  I  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  good." 

*'  Did  the  President  promise?"  asked  Dick,  as  soon  as 
we  were  out  of  hearing. 

"  No,  but  he'll  do  all  in  his  power,  I've  no  doubt." 

"  That's  good.  I  believe  he  will.  He's  a  good 
gentleman,"  said  Dick — •"  that  is,"  he  added,  in  a  whis 
per,  "  for  a  politician." 

My  friend  did  not  lead  me  back  to  the  room  in  which 
he  first  installed  me,  but  said  the  secretary  would  be 
returning  soon.  "We  paced  the  far  end  of  the  lobby 
together,  talking  in  an  under  tone  till  the  morning  hour 
expired,  and  Dick  was  relieved  from  his  duties  as  door 
keeper  to  the  audience  chamber,  and  taking  me  to  a 
room  in  anolher  part  of  the  building,  he  introduced  me 
to  a  very  handsome  and  bright  complexioned  mulatto 
woman,  with  blue  eyes.  Dick's  wife. 

"  One  of  my  old  prisoners,"  said  he,  to  the  young 
woman,  who  curtsied. 

"  Why  Dick,"  I  said,  "  you've  found  your  blue  eyed 
stranger.  What  shall  I  call  her?"  said  I,  taking  her 
hand — for  I  never  knew  Dick's  surname. 

"  Mary,"  quoth  Dick. 


272  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

There  was  a  pretty  olive  and  pink  blush,  on  blue 
eyed  Mary's  cheek. 

"  You  will  stay  to  dinner,  Massa  Walter  ?" 

"  With  the  greatest  happiness,"  I  replied,  and  Mary 
went  out  to  prepare  the  meal,  which  she  served  up  on  a 
table  in  the  same  room,  and  I  must  acknowledge  myself 
indebted  to  that  honest  couple  for  a  dinner  of  herbs, 
sweeter — though  simpler — than  any  banquet. 

Meanwhile  Dick  told  me  that  he  had  left  our  ancient 
city,  because  with  the  ingress  of  a  more  money-making 
community,  though  they  professed  greater  love  for  his 
negro  brethren  of  the  South,  he  found  himself  sinking 
individually,  and  meeting  with  a  sort  of  contempt. 
There  never  was  a  nobler  fellow  than  Dick,  white  or 
black,  and  you  should  have  witnessed  the  mingled  con 
dolence,  pity,  and  pride,  with  which  his  Mary  regarded 
him  over  this  part  of  his  story. 

"  I  left,  Massa  Walter,  because  I  was  worse  than 
nobody,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  come  South,  where 
the  negro  man  is  somebody,  everyone  knows  what, 
where  there's  no  rubbing  against  white  folks,  no  chafing 
negro's  spirit." 

"  But  have  you  never  regretted  it  ?" 

"  Well,  Massa  Walter,  I  often  regret  the  old  town 
where  Abe  and  I  used  to  play  with  the  boys,  and  fight 
for  them,  too,  you  recollect,"  he  added,  showing  his 
pearly  teeth. 

"Mary  ever  hear  of  that?"  I  asked,  laughing,  too. 

"  Oh,  yes.     That's  the  poetry  of  my  life,  that  and 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  273 

sitting  down  on  the  grass  with  the  boys  all  around  me. 
She's  he"ard  it  a  thousand  times.  Wouldn't  wonder  if 
that's  what  got  her  for  me,  eh,  Mary  ?" 

"  Don't  know,  Dick ;  you  used  to  talk  mighty  elo 
quent  'bout  those  times." 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  "  next  to  that  sort  of  life,  give 
me  Southern  life,  where  a  nigger's  a  nigger,  and  every 
body  don't  think  he's  as  good  as  a  white  man,  and 
make  him  unhappy  'bout  it,  then  leaves  him  to  starve 
in  the  back  alleys." 

"But  how  did  you  bring  up  in  these  comfortable 
quarters,  Dick  ?" 

"  Owin'  to  that  gal,"  said  Dick,  looking  fondly  and 
brightly  at  the  pretty,  blushing  Mary.  "  She  was  a 
children's  maid  in  the  old  general's  family.  I  used  to 
wait  on  our  old  governor  when  he  came  here  to  the 
cabinet,  and  that's  the  way  I  got  acquainted  with  Mary." 

"  Well,"— said  I. 

"  Then,"  said  Dick,  "  I  couldn't  help  falling  in  love 
with  her,  you  know." 

"  Ah !  go  'long,  you  Dick !"  exclaimed  the  bashful 
Mary. 

"  Don't  believe  Massa  Walter  could  ha'  helped  it 
himself,"  said  Dick,  "  if  he'd  seen  you  then." 

"  I  can  hardly  help  it  now,"  quoth  I. 

"  Then,"  continued  Dick,  "  old  massa  governor  was 
very  good,  and  when  the  old  cabinet  went  out,  he  asked 
the  new  President  to  give  me  a  place,  so  I  might  live 
with  Mary." 


274  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Then  you  were  married  before  that  time  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick,  "  but  did  it  seem  like  marriage 
when  I  lived  in  one  place,  and  Mary  in  another  ?  and 
that's  the  whole  story." 

"  But  how  does  it  happen,  my  friend,  that  you  have 
so  much  discretionary  power  at  the  President's  door  ?" 

"  Well,  Massa  Walter,  I've  lived  in  Washington  long 
enough  to  know  almost  everybody,  and  some  I  know 
the  President  don't  want  to  see,  and  some,  he  tells  me, 
he  won't  see,  and  some  I  don't  like  the  looks  on  myself, 
no  how !  You  ought  to  seen  our  house  about  the  4th  of 
March ;  such  a  wolfish  looking  set.  Ki !  worse  than 
hungry  niggers !" 

"  How  so,  Dick  ?" 

"  Well,  Massa  Walter,  they'd  bow  and  scrape  to  the 
old  Irish  messengers,  and  whine  around  me,  and  boot- 
lick  everybody  they  thought  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  ropes." 

I  now  rose  and  took  leave  of  Mary  with  much  friend 
liness  of  feeling,  and  Dick  escorted  me  to  the  front 
door,  where  the  porter  stood,  ready  to  open  the  king's 
gate  with  great  alacrity. 

"Arrah!  my  lad,  it's  fooling  wid  ye  I  was,  en 
tirely." 

"  Better  look  out  how  you  fool  with  my  friends 
'nother  time,"  said  Dick,  rather  good-humoredly,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  me. 

I  left. 

"  Bad  'cess  to  the  chocolate-face  nager,"  muttered  Pat, 


THE     KITCHEN     CABINET.  275 

as  he  ushered  me  out.     "  'Twasn't  so  in  the  ould  gine- 
ral's  time." 

That  was  true,  for  in  the  ould  gineral's  time  this 
fortunate  son  of  the  Emerald  Isle  had  the  abuse  of  petty 
authority  in  his  own  hands — and  used  it  less  discreetly 
than  my  glorious  friend  Dick. 


276  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTEE    XXIX. 

THE  FIELD   WON. 

SENATOR  LATKOBE  appeared  delighted  at  the  result  of 
the  diplomacy,  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  account  of 
my  adventure.  He  took  a  letter  from  the  table,  and 
handed  it  to  me. 

"  GENERAL 


"  Chief  Engineer  Department, 

"  SIR  : — I  have  the  honor  to  address  you  on  the  application  of  Master 
Walter  March  (belonging  to  my  constituency) .  for  the  position  of  Cadet 
at  West  Point.  This  young  gentleman  is  the  son  of  a  widow  lady 
(politics  unknown),  who  lives  in  the  city  of  Detroit,  the  relict,  I  am  told, 
of  the  late  Wingfleet  March,  who  died  immediately  after  his  election  as 

Deputy  from  the  then  Territory  of a  Jeffersonian  democrat.    The 

present  John  March  of  Boston,  is  a  prominent  New  England  whig.  The 
young  man  himself  is  a  democrat — so  the  editor  of  the  Detroit  Gazette 
states — but  as  I  have  said,  his  mother's  politics  nre  unknown.  The 
claims  of  the  humblest  widows  and  orphans  of  my  constituency,  are 
uppermost  in  my  mind,  and  I  take  decided  interest  in  their  peace,  happi 
ness  and  prosperity. 

Yours,  in  the  bonds  of  democracy, 

"  OLIVER  HAZZARD  PERRY  HUSTINGS,  M.C." 

Sealed  with  the   goddess  Justice,  holding  a  pair  of 
evenly  suspended  scales. 
"  Well,  Waltair,  what  you  think  of  that  ?" 


THE     FIELD     WON.  277 

"  Think,  sir !  why  that  there's  not  a  peg  in  it  big 
enough  to  hang  a  hope  on,"  I  exclaimed,  almost  ready 
to  weep. 

"  Don't  despair,  my  boy,"  said  the  good  old  friend  of 
my  father,  in  a  soft,  sympathetic  voice.  "  Take  the 
lettair  to  the  department  to-morrow,  and  see  what  the 
general  of  engineers  will  say." 

Accordingly,  at  the  early  office  hour  next  morning, 
behold  me  in  the  engineer  department.  There  was  a 
very  mild,  gentlemanly  clerk — he  had  been  a  clerk  a 
century,  I  thought,  from  his  clerkly  manner  and  red  tape 
finish — who  seemed  to  take  great  interest  in  me. 

"  Good  morning !"  he  said,  with  a  flourish  of  his  pen 
over  the  desk. 

"  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  Take  a  chair,  sir,"  he  said,  getting  one  from  his 
chiefs  room,  and  smoothing  the  cushion — as  he  would 
smooth  a  document  with  a  paper  folder. 

"  Cold  weather,"  he  said,  resuming  his  place  at  the 
desk.  "  For  two  weeks,  thermometer  ranging  between 
six  and  thirty  above  Fahrenheit,  paving-stones  on  the 
avenue  yielding  fine  silicious  dust,  intersections  of  the 
avenues  wide,  great  sweep  for  wyind  from  the  moun 
tains,"  and  thus  he  continued,  only  pausing  to  wipe  his 
pen,  and  dip  the  point  of  it  in  his  mouth,  talking  as  if 
copying  the  report  of  some  officer  on  the  eligibility  of 
site  for  a  proposed  fort. 

I  must  have  enjoyed  the  conversation  of  my  queer 
friend  a  full  hour  before  the  general  came  in. 


278  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS: 

He  invited  me  to  a  chair  in  his  own  office,  while  he 
glanced  a  few  moments  at  some  letters  on  the  table. 
Then  he  moved  his  spectacles  on  the  top  of  his  head,  and 
turned  towards  me,  asking, 

"What  news  from  your  member?" 

"  A  letter,  sir." 

The  general  dropped  the  spectacles  on  his  nose,  read 
the  letter,  raised  the  spectacles  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
looked  at  me,  dropped  the  spectacles  again,  read  the 
letter  again,  and  finally  asked  me,  looking  with  a 
troubled  expression  through  his  spectacles, 

"  Who  the  devil  can  make  head  or  tail  of  this?" 

I  had  nothing  to  say. 

Then  he  seized  his  pencil  in  an  irritated  manner,  and 
endorsed  something  on  the  back  of  the  letter,  which  he 
handed  me,  saying, 

"  Ask  Mr.  Hustings,  to  please  write  that  over  in  ink, 
and  sign  his  name  to  it." 

"  Yes,  sir,  thank  you,"  and  I  left  the  office. 

My  good  friend  the  clerk  followed  me  into  the  hall, 
and  said, 

"  Which  way's  the  wind  ?" 

I  showed  him  the  letter,  which  he  read  with  a  rapid 
mumble,  as  if  casting  up  a  column  of  figures. 

"  These  members,"  said  he,  "  are  as  slippery  as  eels." 

I  then  pointed  to  him  the  general's  endorsement, 
which  he  read  with  more  apparent  satisfaction,  and  said 
as  he  handed  me  back  the  document, 

"  Foundation    bad !    superstructure    good !    chances 


THE     FIELD     WON..  279 

even !  Keep  to  the  work !  Let  me  see  you  to-mor 
row  !" 

Those  dreadfully  long  Washington  to-morrows!  I 
never  shall  forget  them.  Such  purgatories,  such  heart 
sickening  under  hope  deferred  by  them. 

I  found  the  honorable  member  at  his  dinner  that  day, 
and  waited.  When  he  came  in,  he  said, 

"Here  yet?" 

"  I  have  not  waited  long,  sir." 

"  I  mean  here  in  Washington,  yet.  No  need  of  your 
staying  longer.  That  letter  of  mine  will  fix  your  flint." 

"  I  delivered  your  letter,  and  the  chief  engineer  has 
endorsed  something  on  it  for  you  to  put  in  ink  and  sign." 

"  Ha !"  said  he,  changing  color  slightly,  "  let  me  see." 

He  read  the  endorsement  aloud.  "  I  wish  the  within 
to  be  distinctly  considered  as  a  nomination  of  Master 
Walter  March  for  a  cadetship  from  my  district." 

The  honorable  member  frowned,  took  up  and  laid 
down  his  pen.  A  thought  seemed  to  clear  up  his  brain. 
He  took  the  pen  up  again,  and  wrote  in  the  pencil 
traces,  signed  his  name  below,  and  handed  the  docu 
ment  to  me,  saying, 

"There  !  I  hope  that  will  satisfy  him." 

I  thanked  him  very  warmly,  and  withdrew. 

The  hoped  for  morrow  came.  M.  Latrobe  shook 
hands  with  me  as  I  departed  from  his  lodgings,  and 
said. 

"  Let  me  welcome  you  back  as  Cadet  March." 

"  I  hope  so,  sir." 


280  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

There  was  not  the  least  doubt  now  on  my  mind  that 
the  goal  was  within  reach,  and  the  prize  ready. 

The  general  read  the  endorsement  carefully.  His 
face  grew  humorsome  in  expression. 

"  He  is  satisfied,"  I  whispered  to  myself.  He  finally 
laughed.  I  did  not  fully  like  the  tone  of  that  laugh. 
I  Still  I  thought  he  would  not  laugh  over  another's  mis 
fortunes  ;  it  must  be  all  right. 

"  Mr.  Tapes !"  he  cried. 

My  friend,  the  clerk,  made  his  appearance. 

"  Can  you  read  that  word,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  quite  plain,  recommendation." 

"  Just  so  !  just  so  !     I  knew  he  would  try  to  dodge  it." 

"  What !"  I  exclaimed  with  affright. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  general,  "  your  worthy 
member  has  written  the  word  '  recommendation,'  which 
is  of  no  account,  in  the  place  of  '  nomination,'  which  is 
the  whole  thing  in  one  word." 

"  How  ?"  I  exclaimed,  dismayed. 

The  general  made  the  explanation  again. 

"  Then  what  is  to  be  done  ?"  I  cried,  that  same  little 
weak,  womanish  tear  that  so  often  persecuted  me, 
rising  now. 

"  The  only  thing  you  can  do,  my  dear  friend,  is  to 
carry  the  document  back  to  him,  point  out  the  discre 
pancy,  and  ask  him  to  correct  it." 

The  benevolent  clerk  followed  me  out  to  the  hall 
again,  quite  excited,  too,  apparently  forgetting-  for  the 
nonce,  the  site  of  that  new  fort. 


THE      FIELD     WON.  281 

"My  dear  friend,  be  cautious !  don't  get  mad,  that  sort 
of  thing,  you  know,  don't  pay.  Throw  the  blame  on 
the  office — on  me  if  you  please — tell  him  it's  a  mere 
rule  of  convenience — do  you  understand  ?" 

"  I  could  throw  the  document  in  his  face,"  I 
exclaimed — that  little  tear  coming  out. 

"  No !  no !"  said  he,  looking  at  the  tear,  "  'twould  spoil 
all." 

"  Guilford  never  would  consent  to  my  stooping  to  dog 
the  heels  of  this  person  so." 

"  Who  is  Guilford  ?" 

"  My  brother,  my  friend,  my  father,  my  proud,  good, 
generous  brother,"  I  said. 

"  But  what  would  he  say  if  you  should  lose  it  ?" 

"  Better  lose  it,  sir,"  said  I,  in  a  softer  tone  to  the 
gentlemanly  clerk,  "  than  to  degrade  myself." 

"  No  degradation :  no  such  word  known  here  at 
"Washington.  Get  what  you  can,  and  how  you  can,  is 
the  motto  here.  By  Jupiter !  I'll  go  with  you." 

Accordingly  my  new  ally  flew  into  the  office,  and 
re-appeared  in  a  moment,  crumpling  his  hat  excitedly 
on  his  head.  Gaining  the  open  air,  he  soon  recovered 
his  wonted  composure,  and  ere  we  gained  Mr.  Husting's 
lodgings,  he  was  lost  as  deeply  in  his  field-notes  as  ever. 
Once  or  twice  he  brightened  up  as  he  turned  towards 
me — probably  noticing  my  look  of  forlorn  despondency 
— and  said, 

"  Cheer  up,  Mr.  March,  we'll  view  the  work  !" 

The  House  of  Representatives  had  adjourned  over, 


282  SHOEPAC    RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  the  member  was  fortunately  at  home.     I  introduced 
Mr.  Tapes,  clerk  in  the  engineer  department. 

"  What  now  ?"  asked  the  member,  rather  tartly,  for 
so  small  a  matter  to  a  statesman. 

"  The  rules  of  our  office,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapes,  "  are 
very  precise.  I  may  say,  sir,  absurdly  precise." 

"  I  should  think  so,  too !"  sneered  the  honorable 
M.C.  "  But  what's  wrong  now  ?" 

"  The  endorsement,  sir :  all  right  but  one  word,  not 
of  much  importance,  easily  mistaken  for  the  one  written, 
but  the  rules  of  the  office,  sir,  require  " 

"  Let  me  see  what  you  refer  to." 

"  That  word  '  recommendation,'  sir,  should  be  '  nomi 
nation.'  ' 

"  Pshaw !"  said  the  honorable  member,  representing 
a  constituency  of  seventy  thousand,  as  he  pushed  back 
the  paper,  "  is  that  all?  the  words  mean  the  same  thing, 
or  nearly  so." 

Mr.  Tapes  was  evidently  at  a  nonplus. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Hustings,"  I  said,  "  but 
surely  you  cannot  allow  the  great  friendship  you  have 
shown  me  in  this  matter,  all  to  go  for  nothing  now  ?" 

Mr.  Hustings  looked,  or  rather  leered  at  me,  with  a 
doubtful,  inquiring,  half-shut  eye. 

"The  cause  of  widow  and  orphans,  sir,  which  you 
justly  assert  to  be  uppermost  in  your  thoughts  is  one, 
the  peace,  happiness,  and  prosperity  of  which  you 
would  hardly  sacrifice  on  the  paltry  consideration  of  a 
word." 


THE     FIELD     WON".  283 

"  I  cannot  encourage  this  sort  of  dictation  from  the 
departments,  sir,"  he  replied,  uneasily,  as  if  wishing  to 
divert  me  from  a  manner  of  speech  impossible  to 
interpret. 

"  Sir,  you  are  too  noble !  too  liberal !  to  take  issue 
with  them  on  the  difference  of  a  shade  of  meaning  in  a 
word  ?" 

"Well,  give  me  the  letter,"  he  said,  petulantly.  Mr. 
Tapes  handed  it  to  him  eagerly.  "  There,"  said  he,  as  he 
erased  the  objectionable  term,  and  wrote  the  necessary 
one  over  it,  "  I  believe  this  office  of  chief  engineer 
should  be  abolished,  and  the  business  of  fortification 
controlled  by  a  committee  of  Congress,  as  it  was  in  the 
French  Revolution." 

Mr.  Tapes  and  myself  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  leav 
ing  the  member  to  arrange  the  details  of  his  com 
mittee. 

"  Does  that  secure  it  beyond  a  doubt?"  I  asked. 

"  Unquestionably,"  he  cried  with  joy.  I  called  for  a 
carriage. 

"  Take  this  gentleman  to  the  War  Office,"  I  said  to 
the  driver,  with  exultation.  "  What  is  your  charge  ?" 

"  Two  dollars,  massa!" 

"The  villain,"  exclaimed  Tapes,  stepping  back  from 
the  open  door,  "  it's  only  worth  " 

"  Never  mind  the  price,"  I  said,  pushing  him  in,  and 
throwing  the  driver  two  Spanish  dollars. 

On  that  evening  my  warrant  was  sent  to  M.  Latrobe, 
whose  congratulations  were  showered  upon  me  with 


284  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

every  demonstration  of  joy  and  affection.  M.  Latrobe 
also  handed  me  a  short  letter  from  my  eldest  brother 
John,  inclosing  a  bank  note  of  considerable  value,  and 
inviting  me — pressing  me — I  may  say,  to  come  on  to 
Cambridge  and  visit  him  until  the  June  term  at  West 
Point  should  commence.  I  loitered  in  the  .political 
metropolis  of  the  nation,  long  enough  to  study  the 
architecture  of  the  public  buildings,  hear  the  most 
eminent  orators  speak,  and  pay  visits  of  farewell  to  my 
friends  Dick  and  Mary,  the  clergyman,  and  Mr.  Tapes 
— with  whom  I  dined. 

Dick  said  that  when  the  administration  broke  up  he'd 
Kke  to  return  to  good  old  Detroit.  Mary  told  me  con 
fidentially  she  was  dying  to  go  there,  too.  I  promised 
to  find,  if  possible,  a  place  that  might  enable  them  to 
settle  down  comfortably,  and  took  my  leave  of  them 
with  a  full  heart. 

Tapes  said,  coming  with  me  to  the  door  of  his  lodg 
ings,  he  had  a  word  of  advice  that  he  would  respectfully 
suggest. 

"Speak  it  out,  dear  sir.  I  am  not  the  head  of  a 
bureau,  that  you  should  hesitate." 

"  Then,  Mr.  "Walter,  don't  graduate  from  "West  Point 
into  the  engineers." 

ic  Don't  believe  I  could,  if  I  wished." 

"  Don't  try  to,  sir.     Don't  try." 

"  But  what  is  the  objection?" 

"  O  !  sir,  your  brain  would  turn  into  lime  water,  you 
would  be  but  the  carbonate  of  a  man — a  walk- 


THE     FIELD     WON.  285 

ing  stalagmite  or  stalactite — your  building  materials 
would  go  to  waste." 

Ignorant  of  what  lie  meant,  but  profoundly  impressed 
with  his  manner,  I  squeezed  Mr.  Tapes'  hand,  and  we 
said  good-bye  ! 

The  secret  of  the  poor  gentleman's  dislike  must  have 
laid  in  the  eternal  routine  of  his  own  duties,  year  in  and 
year  out,  casting  up  costs,  quantities  and  qualities,  of 
"  building  materials  for  works  of  fortification." 

John  March's  liberality  enabled  me  to  travel  "  like  a 
gentleman,"  as  M.  Latrobe  would  say. 

Walter  took  passage  in  the  railway  cars  for  JS"ew 
York,  and  in  seven  days  found  himself,  neither  at  West 
Point  as  he  expected,  nor  at  Cambridge,  where  he  was 
invited,  but  at  Detroit,  where  he  was  delighted,  with 
Major  Fontenoy,  studying  mathematics,  and  with  Mabel 
Latrobe,  studying  her,  himself,  and  the  tender  passion. 


286  SHOE  P  AC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

SWEET   HOME. 

"  THE  trial  is  to  come  off  in  the  May  term  of  court," 
said  Guilford. 

"  What  trial  ?"  I  inquired. 

We  were  sitting  in  the  library  one  evening  towards 
the  end  of  February. 

"  Did  I  not  write  you  that  we  were  sued  at  law  ?" 

"  No,  by  whom  ?" 

"  Mr.  Magroy.  In  the  first  place,  about  a  month  ago, 
I  took  to  Mr.  Magroy  the  amount  understood  to  be  the 
price  for  the  cut-off  lot." 

"  Oh !  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  have  secured  that  so 
soon." 

"Not  so  fast,  Walter.  John  sent  the  greater  portion 
of  the  purchase  money,  and  urged  me  to  make  no  delay. 
As  I  said,  I  took  the  amount  to  Mr.  Magroy,  but  what 
do  you  think  ?" 

"  Did  he  say  the  gentleman  wished  to  keep  it?" 

"  No,  he  had  bought  it  himself." 

«  p>y !» 

"  My  son,"  said  Mrs.  March,  mildly,  "  did  you  learn 
that  in  Washington  ?" 


S  W  K  E  T      HOME.  287 

"  Dear  mother,  your  pardon." 

"  But,  Guilford,  what  was  the  old  curmudgeon's 
excuse  ?" 

"  "Walter,"  again  said  my  mother — less  mildly — "  hard 
names  ?" 

"They  do  nothing  in  Congress,  mother,  but  call  each 
other  hard  names." 

"  'Tis  vulgar,  dear  boy,  wherever  you  may  have 
picked  it  up." 

"  What  do  they  call  my  father  ?"  asked  Mabel,  archly. 
"No  one  would  dare  to  give  him  a  name." 

"  The  Gentleman  from  Corsica,"  I  said  with  a  wink  at 
Guilford,  "  or  if  they  wished  to  be  severe,  the  Senator 
from  Waterloo." 

"  The  canaille  /"  exclaimed  Mabel. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  this  old  scamp  of  a  Magroy." 

"  Call  him  a  good  singer,"  said  my  mother.  It  was 
her  rule,  when  she  could  speak  no  good  of  a  person,  to 
call  him  a  good  singer. 

"  This  excellent  singer  then,  Guilford,  what  was  his 
motive  ?" 

"  Partly  avarice,  which  grows  upon  him  every  day ; 
and  partly  the  fear  of  a  conspiracy  ;  he  fancies  we  have 
formed  one  to  ruin  him." 

"  Conspiracy?"  I  echoed,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  Mrs.  Fidgets  has  poisoned  his  mind 
with  the  notion." 

"  Fidgets !  the  old  "— 

My  mother  lost  a  stitch  as  she  suspended  her  knitting 


288  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

on  a  stocking  for  my  outfit,  without  looking  at  mo,  but 
waiting  to  hear  if  I  would 

"  The  exquisite  singer !  mother." 

"  Fidgets  is  Fidgets  no  longer,"  said  Maud. 

"  She  is  Mrs.  Archibald  Magroy,  LL.D.,"  said  Mabel, 
in  a  mincing  manner,  imitative  of  the  late  brisk  house 
keeper. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Guilford,  "  Abe  and  the  Shoepacs  were 
going  to  charivari  them,  but  Major  Fontenoy  persuaded 
them  not  to." 

"  Guilford  had  more  to  do  with  persuading  them  out 
of  it,  than  the  major  had,"  said  Mabel.  I  did  not  very 
well  like  the  look  of  pride  with  which  she  regarded  my 
brother. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Guilford,  "I  only  told  them 
they'd  better  not,  on  Allen's  account.  Poor  fellow,  he 
was  sufficiently  shocked  to  hear  of  the  marriage." 

""Well,"  said  I,  in  a  maze  of  bewilderment,  "what 
about  this  lawsuit  ?" 

"  Oh !  there  came  a  harum  scarum  Frenchman  here, 
from  the  upper  country,  a  relative  of  the  Fabiens,  who 
once  owned  this  property,  claiming  not  only  our  land, 
with  the  cottage  and  all  improvements,  but  those  of  the 
whole  neighborhood,  likewise." 

"On  what  plea?" 

"Why  that  his  grandfather  was  out  of  his  head  when 
he  made  his  will." 

"And  Mr.  Magroy?" 


SWEET     HOME.  289 

"  After  talking  with  the  lawyers  generally,  who  told 
him  the  costs  would  be  great,  the  Frenchman  was  about 
relinquishing  the  whole  matter,  when  Mr.  Magroy  pur 
chased  his  title,  took  the  papers,  names  of  the  witnesses, 
and  all  that,  and  is  now  going  to  contest  the  point  in  .an. 
action  of  ejectment  against  us." 

"The  old" My  mother  paused  in  her  knitting. 

I  inclined  my  head  deferentially  towards  her. 

"  Who  are  his  lawyers  ?" 

"  Counsellor  O'Mar  is  the  only  one  as  yet  retained  on 
that  side." 

"And  ours?" 

"  Is  Mr.  Floury.  Allen,  of  course,  views  the  matter 
with  regret,  and  thinks  his  father  clearly  in  the  wrong, 
but  motives  of  delicacy  prevents  his  " — 

"  Oh  yes  !  I  understand  that,  always  the  man,  always 
the  gentleman !" 

"  "Well,  how  do  you  feel  about  it?" 

"  Mother  and  Maud  seem  to  be  devoid  of  fear,  but  I 
am  not  so  sanguine." 

"Why?" 

"Because,  money  is  more  powerful  than  right; 
because,  the  avarice  and  hatred  of  Mr.  Magroy,  are 
stimulated  by  the  jealousy  of  Fidgets — and  jealousy  is 
cruel  as  the  grave." 

"  What  can  the  creature  be  jealous  of?  Has  she  not 
married  up  to  the  top  of  her  wishes  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  my  mother,  "  she  is  welcome  to  look 
down  upon  us  if  she  will." 

13 


290  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  The  worst  I  fear  is,  that  they  may  carry  on  the  suit 
till  we  are  no  longer  able  to  pay  costs,"  added  Guilford. 

"  God  forbid  that  he  should  deprive  us  of  the 
cottage  !"  I  said. 

"  Amen,"  said  my  mother,  in  a  low  voice.  She  rose 
up  from  her  seat  and  kissed  me.  "  When  my  boy 
Walter  comes  back  from  the  strange  world,  and  the 
cruel  wars,  we  must  have  a  home  for  him.  Maud,  my 
daughter,  please  sing  us  Sweet  Home" 

"  Oh  yes !  do  Maud !  I  will  join  in  the  chorus,"  cried 
Mabel,  enthusiastically. 

My  mother  had  laid  aside  her  knitting,  and  gotten  the 
family  Bible,  which  now  lay  upon  her  lap,  as  she  sat 
in  the  rocking-chair.  Guilford  laid  his  arm  over  my 
shoulder  and  took  my  hand  in  his  own,  as  we  sat  side  by 
side  on  the  lounge. 

Mabel  was  on  a  footstool  at  the  feet  of  my  sister  Maud, 
in  front  of  the  lire. 

"  Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home. 

A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 

Which  seek  through  the  world,  is  ue'er  met  with  elsewhere. 

Home,  home,  sweet — sweet  " 

Maud's  voice  died  away — Mabel  burst  into  tears- 
Walter  threw  himself  into  his  mother's  arms — the  rest 
of  that  evening  hymn  remains  unsung  at  Lilac  Cottage, 
to  this  hour. 


WHAT    WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP.       291 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WHAT   WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP. 

TIME  never  flew  so  rapidly  as  in  the  interval  between 
my  appointment  and  my  departure — the  beautiful 
spring  months. 

My  mathematics  went  on  indifferently,  after  the  Major 
told  me  he  felt  secure  of  my  passing  the  examination 
preparatory  for  admission.  I  lay  in  the  grass  on  the 
lawn,  or  with  Guilford  dreamed  away  on  the  green 
bank  under  the  butternut  trees,  building  more  castles, 
and  loftier,  brighter,  than  ever.  This  place  was  about 
two  miles  from  town,  from  which  it  was  cut  off  by  two 
or  three  points  of  woods.  But  it  commanded  a  view  of 
the  spires  of  Saint  Ann,  as  well  as  of  the  more  ambi 
tious  new  Gothic  towers  of  the  Protestant  church,  which 
divided  the  rays  of  the  rising  and  setting  sun,  with  the 
venerable  old  Saint.  The  river,  with  its  variety  of  sails, 
green  banks,  orchards,  old  fashioned  French  houses,  and 
windmills,  the  distant  lake  with  its  light-house,  the 
forest  island  that  stood  at  its  mouth;  these,  with  the 
woods  stretching  in  a  long  purple  line  on  our  right,  and 
Millbrook  farm  with  its  meadows,  dilapidated  mill,  apple 
blossoms,  rivulet,  and  the  cloud-shadows  on  the  waving 


292  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

fields  of  new  wheat,  made  up  a  landscape  wonderfully 
charming  for  so  level  a  country. 

While  memory  revels  among  those  delightful  days,  I 
may  not  pass  by  an  incident  which  then  happened,  and 
its  narration  may  serve  to  throw  some  light  on  the 
character  of  our  persecutor. 

Guilford  and  I  were  reclining  on  Air  Castle  Bank  one 
serene  Sunday  afternoon  in  May,  when  we  observed  an 
unusual  column  of  smoke  rising  over  the  spot  we  always 
fancied  our  house  to  occupy.  We  started  to  our  feet, 
and  commenced  running  towards  the  city,  but  the 
column  growing  more  and  more  slender,  and  finally 
dying  away  entirely,  we  proceeded  home  more  lei 
surely. 

On  reaching  the  lawn  we  found  articles  of  furniture 
lying  in  confusion  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the  cottage. 
There  were  one  or  two  damped  blankets  spread  out  on 
the  roof,  which  was  charred  and  black  for  the  space  of  a 
few  feet  around  the  chimney,  at  one  of  the  gable  ends  of 
the  roof.  On  going  round  to  that  side  of  the  house  we 
saw  the  blackened  water  still  coursing  down  over  the 
clapboards  to  the  ground.  It  seems  that  the  chimney 
had  taken  fire,  which  communicated  by  some  means  to 
the  wood-work  around  the  chimney,  and  under  the  roof- 

Bowes  first  saw  it,  ran  in  and  gave  the  alarm.  There 
happened  to  be  no  person  near  my  mother  and  Maud,  but 
Joram  Jumps. 

Mrs.  March  at  once  started  for  the  scene  of  action, 
taking  a  bucketful  of  water  with  her,  and  directing 


WHAT    WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP.        293 

Maud  and  Bowes  to  do  likewise.  They  began  at  once 
to  gather  vessels,  and  fill  them  at  the  well.  My  mother 
threw  up  a  window  which  opened  on  the  roof  of  a  wing 
of  the  house,  whoi*e  there  stood  a  ladder,  by  means  of 
which  she  gained  the  upper  roof,  and  dashing  the  water 
on  the  smoking  crevices  around  the  chimney,  stood  by 
waiting  for  more  water. 

Meantime  Joram  Jumps  had  flown  through  the  hall, 
flung  wide  open  the  front  door,  and  ran  down  the  lawn 
crying, 

"  Fire  !     Fire  !" 

My  mother  stood  on.  the  ridge  of  the  roof.  The 
breeze  was  playing  with  her  hair,  which  had  fallen  about 
her  shoulders,  and  while  Joram  cried  fire !  Mrs.  March 
cried, 

"  Water  !     Water !" 

Maud  and  Bowes,  hearing  my  mother's  voice,  quick 
ened  their  movements,  and  armed  with  unusual  strength 
by  the  excitement,  soon  established  a  line  between  my 
mother  and  the  well.  Still  the  fire  gained  headway,  the 
smoke  rolled  out  in  thicker,  blacker,  and  larger  volumes, 
and  the  heat  began  to  drive  my  mother  away  from  the 
chimney.  Joram  crying  fire  !  witlf  all  the  power  of 
locomotive  lungs,  ran  back  to  the  house  and  began  to 
carry  out  the  furniture  in  his  arms  upon  the  lawn. 

A  tall,  emaciated  figure  now  appeared  inside  the  gate, 
and  came  hurrying  along  up  the  lawn. 

"Water!  water  !"  my  mother  screamed  from  the  roof, 
as  she  caught  view  of  the  new  ally. 


SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  What  the  Old  Nick  are  yon  doing  here,  yon  young 
lont?"  exclaimed  an  excited,  strong  voice.  "Drop  that 
mirror,  and  go  help  the  women  draw  water." 

Joram  obeyed  with  alacrity,  ran  around  to  the  well, 
and  by  his  assistance  contributed  to  an  immediate 
increase  in  the  supply  of  water. 

The  tall  figure  hastened  into  the  house,  gained  the 
window,  was  out  on  the  lower  roof,  threw  away  a  cane 
he  had  hitherto  carried,  climbed  the  ladder,  and  was  on 
the  roof  between  the  fire  and  my  mother,  now  almost 
suffocated  by  the  smoke.  He  took  her  place  on  the 
ridge,  pushed  into  the  smoke,  and  dashed  bucketful 
after  bucketful  of  water  on  the  fire  as  my  mother 
handed  the  vessels  to  him. 

"There  he  stood,"  said  Major  Fontenoy,  "like  a 
prophet  of  old  on  a  mountain,  hey !  his  tall  figure 
now  looming  out  and  anon  disappearing  momenta 
rily  in  the  smoke,  hey !  till  I  gained  the  roof-top,  sent 
Mrs.  March  down,  and  posted  myself  in  front  of  Mr. 
Magroy,  but  the  fire  began  to  flag  before  I  came, 
hey!" 

Maud  told  the  story  by  the  bedside  of  my  mother, 
who  was  prostrate  and  nearly  blind  after  her  heroic 
efforts. 

"But  what,"  Guilford  inquired,  "became  of  Mr. 
Magroy  ?  did  he  come  in  afterwards  ?  did  he  manifest 
any  other  friendliness  ?" 

"  No,  he  hobbled  down  the  ladder  as  soon  as  the  fire 
was  gotten  under,  sent  Joram  up  to  assist  Major  Fontenoy 


WHAT    WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP.     295 

in  quenching  the  remains,  and  was  down  the  lawn  and 
out  at  the  gate  before  I  could  thank  the  dear  old  gentle 
man." 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  real  sympathy  for  us,  or  calcu 
lation  ?"  asked  Guilford. 

"  I  hope  it  was  sympathy,"  Maud  replied,  "  and  I 
rather  think  it  was,  from  the  kind  looks  he  gave  me  as 
he  passed." 

"  I  think  it  was  goodness  of  heart,"  said  Walter. 
"  The  old  gentleman  is  impulsive,  and  impulse  is  seldom 
selfish  or  calculating." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Guilford,  deliberately.  "  If  the 
house  were  burned  and  he  gained  the  suit " 

"  It  was  pure  goodness  of  heart !"  said  my  blinded 
mother,  turning  impatiently  on  the  bed.  "  He  said  to 

me  when  the  danger  seemed  greatest  that " My 

mother  paused. 

"  "What  did  he  say,  mother  ?"  I  asked. 

"  JSTo  matter,  my  children." 

And  what  Mr.  Magroy  said  to  my  mother  on  the 
house-top  at  the  moment  she  was  likely  to  become 
houseless,  still  remains  a  mystery. 

It  was  during  the  week  following  the  fire,  that  the 
case  of  Magroy  versus  March  came  on  for  trial. 

It  may  be  as  well,  previously  to  our  entering  into 
the  narrative  of  that  event,  to  inform  the  reader  of  the 
state  of  one  of  the  high  contending  parties,  the  plaintiff 
in  the  action. 

Mr.  Magroy's  marriage  with  Mrs.  Fidgets  appeared  to 


296  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

make  the  melancholy  gentleman  no  happier,  strange  as 
this  may  appear  to  the  friends  of  that  judicious  lady. 
On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Magroy  fell  a  prey  to  a  thousand 
hallucinations.  Major  Fontenoy  was  going  to  kill  him. 
Guilford  March  had  a  mortgage  on  his  princely  mansion, 
and  was  soon  to  turn  him  and  his  wife  into  the  streets. 
Miss  Maud  March  was  jealous  of  his  wife.  The  doctor 
had  designs  on  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Magroy. 

"  Why  sir !"  expostulated  the  doctor,  "  your  wife's 
no  buxom  lass,  no  beauty,  sir !  What  do  I,  already  a 
man  of  family  want  of  her?  The  old  hag!"  muttered 
Doctor  Men  dry  to  himself. 

"  Sir !"  said  Mr:  Magroy,  rising  up  in  his  bed,  and 
pointing  his  long  emaciated  finger  towards  the  door  of 
the  room  occupied  by  his  wife.  "  Let  her  fix  her  fasci 
nating  eye  on  any  man  in  America,  and  he's  gone. 
There's  no  resisting  that  eye,"  he  added,  falling  back 
exhausted. 

Mr.  Magroy's  most  common  hallucination  was  that  of 
the  conspiracy.  Every  morning  his  money  was  counted 
over.  That  which  he  held  in  the  bank  was  withdrawn, 
and  placed  in  the  iron  chest  in  his  office,  where  the 
haunted  being  slept.  The  room  was  provided  with  dou 
ble  doors,  and  the  windows  were  grated  with  bars  of 
iron.  Thus  Mr.  Magroy  had  become  his  own  prisoner, 
and  beyond  dispute,  the  worst  jailer  a  wretch  can  have 
is  his  own  fears.  He  fancied,  in  his  darkest  moments, 
that  Allen  was  seeking  his  life,  and  his  alternate  ana 
themas  on  the  head  of  his  son,  and  screeches  for  mercy 


WHAT    WAS     SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP. 

and  pardon,  were  heard  by  passers  by,  and  rumored 
to  the  world. 

"  Sir,"  said  Doctor  Mendry,  taking  a  pinch  of  Major 
Fontenoy's  snuff,  and  laying  the  forefinger  of  his  right 
hand  in  the  palm  of  his  left.  "Sir,  it  is  a  remarkable 
case.  A  curious  feature  is  the  wonderful  knowledge 
he  exhibits  in  the  diagnosis  of  his  own  disease.  t  Come 
doctor,'  he  will  say,  '  I  wish  to  test  the  matter  of  my 
sanity.  Let's  take  a  game  of  chess,  mad  or  not  mad. 
You  are  mad,  doctor.  I  am  not  mad.' J: 

"  Facetious,  hey  !"  said  the  major. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely,  "he  means  if 
he  beats  me  he  has  his  senses,  for,  sir,  it  takes  a  well 
man  to  do  that." 

"  Yery  few  well  men,  hey  !" 

"  Another  pinch  of  snuff  if  you  please,  major. 
Capital  snuff,  capital!" 

Allen  Magroy  became  the  most  sorrowful  and  pitiable 
of  mankind.  He  attempted  to  see  his  father.  Mrs. 
Magroy  glared  fiendishly  upon  the  young  man,  who 
she  yet  feared  might  deprive  her  of  her  anticipated 
prey,  and  always  pronounced  Mr.  Magroy  too  sick  to  be 
seen,  and  emphatically  said  his  life  depended  upon  rest 
and  quiet.  Then  Allen  sought  Doctor  Mendry.  He 
inquired  whether  Ms  course  towards  his  strong-minded 
father — as  he  had  ever  supposed  him  to  be — had  served 
to  bring  on  his  present  state. 

"  No,  sir,  I  cannot  see  that  you  have  acted  wrongly. 
Your  father's  mind  is  one  of  peculiar  mould.  In  fact, 


SHOEPAC  KECOL  LECTIONS. 

his  brain  seems  never  to  have  taken  time  to  cool.     He 
has  always  been  of  a  violent,  headstrong  spirit." 

"  And  you  have  known  him  how  long,  doctor?" 

"  Ever  since  he  came  to  this  country,  sir.  Ever  since 
he  was  a  mere  youth.  To  dictate  is  his  ruling  passion. 
Your  manliness,  your  independent  spirit  would  have 
galled  him  " — 

"Doctor!  please  remember  " — 

"  Pardon  me,  Allen,  my  boy.  but  I  speak  the  words 
of  truth  and  soberness." 

"  Can  I  see  my  father  2" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Mrs.  Magroy  has  denied  me  every  day  for  a 
month." 

"  How  ?"  inquired  the  physician,  surprised. 

"  She  has  told  me  he  was  confined  to  his  bed." 

"  The  lying  jade  !" 

"  She  is  my  stepmother,  Dr.  Mendry." 

The  doctor  was  moved.     "  Allen  I  beg  a  thousand 
pardons." 
.  "  You  must  not  speak  disrespectfully  of  one," — 

"  Say  no  more.  I  never  will.  You  shall  see  your 
father  to-day.  He  has  been  actually  confined  to  bed 
but  once  or  twice." 

Allen  went  with  the  doctor.  His  father  was  reading 
the  Bible,  calm  and  clothed  in  his  ri<iht  mind. 

f  O 

"  Father,"  said  Allen,  kneeling.     "I  cannot  surrender 
my  thoughts  of  others,  I  cannot  abandon  my  feelings  " — 
"  Then,  boy,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?" 


WHAT    WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP.       209 

"  I  will  act  on  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  You 
have  been  unwell.  It  is  my  hand  that  should  soothe 
you,  here  it  is — will  you  take  it  ?" 

He  laid  his  hand  on  his  father's  knee. 

"  Allen,  my  brave  boy,"  sobbed  Mr.  Magroy.  "  I 
know  not  which  has  sinned." 

"  I  have  father,  it  is  I." 

"  No !  no  !  no  !"  cried  Mr.  Magroy,  bursting  into 
wild,  hysteric  tears. 

Allen  arose  from  his  knees.  He  turned  towards  the 
doctor,  his  face  streaming  with  tears.  "  Shall  we  go, 
sir?  shall  we  not  leave  him  now,  it  is  too  much,  is  it 
not?" 

"  ~No,  stay  where  you  are,"  said  the  doctor,  curtly, 
striving  to  master  his  own  feelings,  and  quench  his  tear 
ful  emotions. 

At  this  time  Mrs.  Magroy  made  her  angelic  appear 
ance.  She  ran  up  to  the  chair  of  her  husband,  with 
affected  alarm. 

"  You  would  kill  my  husband.  You  would  kill  my 
husband  !  Mr.  Magroy,  do  you  know  by  whom  you  are 
surrounded,  what  they  would  do  ?" 

"  Heavens  !"  exclaimed  Allen,  "  this  is  too  much  !" 

"  I'll  manage  her,"  quoth  the  doctor,  then  going  to 
the  ex-housekeeper,  he  grasped  her  strongly  by  the  arm, 
urged  her  to  the  door,  notwithstanding  her  struggles  and 
loud  sharp  remonstrances,  and  helped  her  out  as  gently 
as  her  resistance  would  permit.  "  It  is  you,  woman, 
that  is  killing  my  patient."  He  closed  the  door  and 
turned  the  key. 


300  8HOEPAO     RECOLLECTIONS. 

""Was  not  that  my  wife?"  demanded  Mr.  Magroy, 
looking  up  at  this  moment. 

"  She  has  gone,  sir,"  answered  the  doctor,  kindly  and 
soothingly.  "She  has  just  stepped  out." 

"And  you  with  her,  sir,"  demanded  Mr.  Magroy, 
with  a  fearful  wild  glare. 

"Alas!  alas!"  whispered  the  doctor  to  Allen,  "that 
woman  has  spoiled  all." 

"  '  And  Nathan  said  unto  David,  thou  art  the  man,' Jl 
shouted  Mr.  Magroy.  " '  And  thou  too,  my  son 
Reuben  ?'  "  he  cried  looking  towards  Allen. 

"  Go !  go  now,"  whispered  Doctor  Mendry,  "  and 
come  another  day  with  me." 

Allen  the  disinherited,  the  distressed,  departed. 

Doctor  Mendry  engaged  Mr.  Magroy  in  theological 
matters,  and  shortly  succeeded  in  diverting  his  mind 
before  leaving  his  unhappy  patient. 

Mr.  Magroy  spent  the  time  now  conning  over  Scrip 
ture  texts,  and  Scripture  stories,  applying  them  to  his 
present  circumstances,  as  wandering  fancies  led.  His 
food  consisted  of  corn  meal  and  molasses,  for  Mr. 
Magroy,  in  his  spectral  visions,  saw  famine  and  beggary 
besieging  his  doors.  Mrs.  Magroy  was  not  too  blind  in 
her  pursuit  after  her  victim's  fortune,  to  perceive  that 
she  had  driven  him  too  far,  and  now  strove  to  quiet  the 
raging  storm  over  which  the  cunning  witch  had  presided 
so  long.  There  where  whispers,  which  did  not  fail  to 
reach  her,  hinting  that  the  law  might  soon  step  in  with 
an  fnquirenflo  de  Lunatico,  and  consequent  assignment 


WHAT    WAS    SAID    ON    THE    HOUSE-TOP.       301 

of  Mr.  Magroy  to  the  hands  of  guardians— his  property 
to  trustees. 

Mr.  Magroy  then  gradually  grew  better. 

Thus  matters  stood  with  the  plantiff  to  the  suit  in  the 
case  of  Magroy  vs.  March. 


302  SIIOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE   TRIAL. 

"  Man  is  unjust,  but  God  is  just ;  and  finally  justice  triumphs." 

EVANGELINB. 

THE  trial  had  dragged  its  weary  length  along  three 
days  and  almost  ceased  to  be  the  wonder  of  the  town. 
The  judge  was  a  Bourbon — that  is,  his  name  was  Bur- 
bon,  but  his  nose  was  shockingly  retrousse  for  a  Bourbon. 
He  was  a  large,  heavy-looking  man,  relieved  by  a  bright 
eye  and  fair  beautiful  hair — a  heavy  Egyptian  column 
crowned  by  a  lotus.  The  next  conspicuous  court  dig 
nitary  was  the  crier.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  and  cried 
Oyez  !  in  the  original  tongue.  The  jury  loitered  in  and 
fell  into  their  boxes  one  by  one. 

The  judge  took  his  seat  this  morning  with  the  air  of 
one  expecting  to  be  bored.  The  crier  opened  the  court 
sleepily.  A  witness  was  required  to  be  sworn. 

"  Antoine  Lafontaine !"  droned  the  crier,  "  come 
forward  and  take  your  oats." 

While  Antoine  is  on  the  stand  Mr.  Magroy  enters  the 
court-room,  with  his  cane.  Allen  has  reserved  for  his 
father  the  best  seat  within  the  bar,  and  rising  respect- 


THE     TRIAL.  "303 

fully,  bows  as  liis  father  plants  himself  there,  without 
honoring  his  son  with  so  much  as  a  nod.  The  old  man 
looks  haggard,  and  perches  his  chin  on  the  two  hands 
crossed  over  his  supporting  cane. 

The  momentary  stir  caused  by  the  plaintiff's  entrance 
has  scarcely  died  away,  when  it  is  renewed  with  a 
louder  hum  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall,  handsome  young 
man,  dressed  in  the  tonish  mode,  whose  every  motion  is 
grace,  polished  ease,  and  gentle  assurance,  as  he  makes 
his  way  up  the  middle  aisle  of  the  chamber,  and  through 
the  crowd  that  hang  around  over  the  outside  of  the  bar ; 
he  opens  the  little  oaken  door  separating  the  learned 
from  the  laity,  and  steps  within  the  bar.  Young 
Counsellor  Allen  Magroy  is  seen  to  rise  suddenly  from 
his  seat,  not  far  from  his  father,  and  spring  forward  with 
an  exclamation  unheard  by  the  laity,  as  he  seizes  the 
hand  of  the  stranger. 

"  Who  the  deuce  ?" 

Is  whispered  inquiringly  along  the  benches. 

"There!"  said  one,  "he  seems  to  know  the  judge. 
See !  he  bows  to  him." 

Now  he  shakes  hands  with  Mr.  Floury. 

"  But  neither  judge  nor  Mr.  Floury  seems  to  know 
him,"  growls  one — always  opposed. 

"  Floury  shakes  him  heartily  now,"  says  the  previous 
whisperer,  "  He  knows  him  now." 

Attorney-General  Floury,  a  tall  thin  man,  with  light 
curling  hair,  remarkably  wide  sweet  mouth,  and  pleasant 
dark  eyes,  rises  and  makes  a  motion. 


804  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"May  it  please  your  honor.  I  regret  at  this  late  stage 
of  the  case  to  ask  a  departure  from  the  ordinary  rules  of 
the  court.  But  knowing  your  honor's  obliging  character, 
and  the  courtesy  of  my  learned  brother  on  the  other 
side,  I  am  relieved  from  further  embarrasment.  Mr. 
John  March,  a  member  of  the  Boston  bar,  has  arrived, 
and  stands  before  your  honor  an  applicant  for  admission 
to  this  bar." 

"  If  there  be  no  objection  on  the  part  of  the  gentle 
man,  he  is  admitted,  with  welcome,"  replied  his  honor. 

The  attorney-general  then  proceeded. 

"  We  thank  your  honor,  and  now  your  honor,  \ve 
have  to  move  further,  that  this  gentleman  be  allowed  to 
participate  in  the  further  trial  of  this  cause,  as  junior 
counsel  for  defendants." 

The  judge  looked  towards  the  counsel  for  the  plaintiff, 
honorable  Counsellor  O'Mar. 

That  gentleman  arose  and  said — 

"I  have  not  the  least  objection,  your  honor;  I  am 
only  sorry  that  he  has  arived  at  such  an  advanced  stage 
of  the  suit.  For,"  added  the  witty  lawyer,  "  I  fear  now 
that  not  only  no  Boston  lawyer,  but  not  even  a  Philadel 
phia  lawyer,  could  prevent  my  client  from  winning." 

The  judge  bowed,  and  the  counsellor  stepped  over  to 
Mr.  March,  shook  him  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  the 
laity  outside  saw  them  laugh  together,  as  O'Mar  shakes 
his  head,  and  they  overheard  him  say  something  about 
"  saltpetre  not  saving  "  something. 

The  worthy  Antoine  Lafontaine  was  one  of  the  last 


THE     TEIAL.  305 

witnesses  for  defence.  He  had  not  been  able  in  his  tes 
timony  to  help  a  cause  considered  quite  hopeless.  But 
it  seems  that  the  new  ally  had  come  provided  with 
succor.  For  the  crier  was  unexpectedly  awakened,  and 
cried  out,  rubbing  his  eyes, 

"  John  Baptiste  Laflambeau !  come  forward  and  take 
your  oats." 

M.  Laflambeau  was  a  very  old  man.  He  now  resided 
at  Montreal.  Lived  on  his  income.  "Was  once  a  tem 
porary  resident  of  this  city,  in  employ  as  part  proprietor, 
part  agent,  of  the  American  Fur  Company.  Knew 
Henri  Fabiens.  Had  heard  reports  at  the  time  of  his 
temporary  insanity.  Never  believed  them.  Eccentric 
man.  Honest,  clear-headed,  thriving  to  the  hour  of 
his  death.  Knew  both  witnesses  to  his  will,  both 
were  dead.  Heard  one  of  them  laughingly  speak  of 
M.  Fabiens'  odd  ways,  and  say  he  acted  like  a  crazy 
man.  Likewise  heard  him  say,  that  M.  Fabiens  was  no 
more  crazy  than  himself,  and  that  he  would  be  glad  to  be 
crazy  like  him.  Recognized  the  two  witnesses'  signa 
tures  in  the  will  now  before  him.  The  date  was  about 
the  same  as  that  of  the  conversations  just  mentioned. 

The  court  was  now  fully  awake.  The  judge  leaned 
forward.  Interrupted  the  witness  while  he  wrote 
down  his  testimony.  Sensation  on  the  benches  of  the 
laity. 

M.  Laflambeau  is  soon  allowed  to  retire,  and  two  or 
three  other  strange  witnesses  are  called,  whose  evidence 
goes  further  and  further  towards  helping  out  the  unfor- 


306  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

tunate  side.  Even  the  jury  begin  to  pay  some  atten 
tion. 

Counsellor  O'Mar  applies  to  the  judge  for  leave  to 
send  for  new  witnesses,  to  rebut  what  he  calls  new 
matter. 

Judge  Burbon  says  it  is  not  new  matter,  and  refuses 
the  counsellor's  application. 

The  examination  of  witnesses  had  ceased. 

The  evidence  seems  very  evenly  balanced. 

It  is  noon.  The  judge  announces  an  adjournment  to 
two  o'clock.  The  crier  cries  it  to  the  court,  but  nobody 
hears.  Everybody  has  something  to  say  to  his  neigh 
bor,  as  their  steps  are  heard  shuffling  over  the  floor  and 
down  the  steps  leading  to  the  street. 

It  is  almost  two  o'clock.  The  chamber  of  justice  is 
filled,  but  people  pour  in  and  overflow  it.  The  learned 
and  witty  Counsellor  O'Mar  is  to  make  two  of  his  best 
speeches,  the  opening  and  closing  of  the  case.  The  elo 
quent  attorney-general  is  to  make  one,  and  it  is  said 
that  young  March  has  arrived  from  Boston.  He  looks 
exactly  like  his  late  father,  only  more  dashing.  He  has 
won  laurels  in  jSTew  England,  and  it  is  thought,  but  not 
known,  that  he  too  will  speak.  That  tall,  gaunt,  pale  old 
man,  bending  moodily  over  his  cane,  is  the  rich  Mr. 
Magroy.  Not  far  off  sits  his  son,  the  popular  young 
barrister,  looking  very  solemnly.  Just  within  the  bar, 
but  separated  by  a  narrow  distance  from  the  lawyers, 
are  two  ladies  closely  veiled.  They  are  Mrs.  March  and 
her  daughter,  the  great  beauty  whom  everybody  loves 


THE     TRIAL.  307 

for  her  retiring  manners.  By  their  side  is  the  good  old 
family  pastor,  Mr.  Cradle.  Behind  these  are  the  young 
commodore  and  his  brother,  the  new  cadet — '"Wonder 
whether  he'll  come  back  home  too  proud  to  speak  to  his 
old  acquaintances?"  one  asks;  "who  knows?"  Over 
there  sit  Major  Fontenoy  and  Senator  Latrobe. 

The  clock  strikes  two. 

The  crier  calls  out  invitingly, 

"  Oyez  !  oyez !  oyez !  The  District  Court  of  the 

United  States  of  America,  for  the  District  of 'is  now 

open." 

Counsellor  O'Mar  rises.  He  is  not  so  merry  at  first 
as  usual.  He  apologizes  for  his  own  embarrassing  posi 
tion.  He  was  not  retained  for  this  case  specially.  He 
was  the  rich  man's  business  lawyer.  But  the  case  was 
one  which  embraced  other  parties  than  his  wealthy 
client  and  the  poor  widow,  whom  he  and  everybody 
knew  and  respected  for  her  virtues.  Titles  to  large  pos 
sessions  in  the  hands  of  numerous  possessors  were  at 
stake. 

He  then  stated  the  case.  Its  history.  The  history 
and  reputation  of  the  original  owner,  and  of  owners  down 
to  the  present  hour.  He  traced  the  changes.  He  then 
went  back  and  struck  rock  by  rock  his  mazy  track 
through  the  tortuous  current  of  M.  Fabiens'  career,  from 
the  fountain-head  down  to  that  dark  troublesome  hour  of 
his  mind,  when  he  made  his  will.  He  dwelt  upon  the 
symptoms  of  his  lunacy.  He  quoted  medical  works  in 
which  those  symptoms  were  clearly  denned,  and  assigned 


308  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  the  cause  he  wished  the  jury  to  infer.  That  M. 
Fabiens  had  certainly  been  crazy,  was  frequently  crazy, 
and  showed  the  most  indisputable  signs  of  craziness, 
both  just  before,  and  just  after,  and  just  at  the  day,  hour 
and  minute,  when  he  made  the  will,  was  patent  to  the 
spectators,  and  proof  positive  to  the  enlightened  jurors. 
There  was  not  the  least  doubt  in  the  mind  of  Walter 
March,  a  party  concerned.  Walter  eyed  the  assembly, 
their  faces  bore  no  shade  of  doubt.  I  peered  over  at 
M.  Latrobe  and  Major  Fontenoy ;  the  honest  soldier 
wore  a  troubled  look.  M.  Latrobe  I  could  not  read.  I 
glanced  at  Mr.  Magroy,  and  saw  the  grim  smile  of  satis 
faction  which  illuminated  his  face.  I  gazed  at  the 
judge  ;  the  judge's  attention  was  fixed  on  the  advocate — 
impassive. 

Mr.  O'Mar  now  descended  into  the  reputation  of  the 
two  witnesses.  Proved  it  unimpeachable.  He  then 
picked  up  and  analyzed -the  meaning  of  every  word 
proved  to  have  been  let  fall  by  those  two  worthies.  His 
analysis  here  was  masterly — at  one  moment  so  profound, 
and  at  the  next  so  witty  that  the  jury  shook  their  fat 
sides,  and  the  laity  shook  their  benches.  Having  made 
the  most  complete  and  satisfactory  statement,  and  having 
analyzed  and  weighed  the  evidence,  he  went  on  to  the 
argument  of  the  points  of  law.  His  logic  was — to  me 
— irresistible.  Finally  came  his  brief  recapitulation,  and 
his  brilliant  peroration.  When  he  sat  down,  the  spec 
tators  did  not  burst  into  a  cheer,  as  I  anticipated,  but 
there  were  murmurs  of  applause  rippling  over  the  house. 


THE     TRIAL.  309 

I  felt  myself  that  our  case  was  already  hopeless,  that 
our  title  was  baseless,  and  half  began  to  feel  that  Mr. 
Magroy  was  an  injured  man. 

Mr.  John  March  arose. 

He  complimented  the  learned  counsellor.  He  had 
listened,  he  said,  as  to  a  father  in  the  law.  He  referred 
a  moment  to  the  peculiarity  of  his  own  position.  He 
congratulated  himself  on  seeing  here  among  the  jury 
men,  even  under  such  unpleasant  circumstances,  the 
familiar  countenances  endeared  to  childhood  and  his 
boyish  years.  He  spoke  respectfully,  even  tenderly,  of 
the  plaintiff,  of  his  learning  and  public  spirit,  and  was 
even  proud  to  acknowledge  here  in  public,  that  by  his 
efforts  the  cottage,  the  very  mansion  forming  a  part  of 
the  property  in  litigation,  was  saved  from  the  fiery 
element. 

He  then  said,  he  would  leave  to  his  senior  the  answer 
to  that  part  of  the  learned  brother's  address,  which 
touched  on  the  evidence  given  previous  to  his  participa 
tion  in  the  case.  It  formed  the  whole  of  the  evidence 
for  the  prosecution,  but  he  would  confine  himself  to 
urging  the  force  of  that  part  of  the  evidence  for  the 
defence  which  he  himself  had  introduced,  and  to  the 
points  of  law  in  the  case.  With  reference  to  the  evi 
dence,  he  advanced  so  boldly,  deduced  so  broadly, 
charged  so  impetuously,  that  I  began  to  fear  for  him. 
But  how  gallantly  he  sustained  himself!  He  began  to 
compare  notes  with  the  construction  put  by  Counsellor 
O'Mar  upon  expression  after  expression — the  Canadian 


310  SHOEPAC     KE  COLLECTION  8. 

patois  of  which  he  pronounced  so  exactly  that  the  jury 
began  to  smile,  and  finally  roared.  His  shrewd  wordly- 
wise  maxims,  addressed  to  the  jury  while  he  held  them 
now  shaking  with  laughter,  now  looking  wise  and  com 
plimented,  with  the  wonderful  intelligence  he  attributed 
to  them,  told  with  great  eifect.  Then  he  addressed  the 
judge  on  the  law  points.  In  this  part  of  his  address,  I 
do  not  think  John  fairly  competed  with  the  counsellor. 
But  he  did  his  best.  He  quoted  Story  and  Greenleaf ; 
he  expounded  and  argued,  and  illustrated  by  similar 
cases,  and  made  it  all  very  clear — if  Counsellor  O'Mar 
hadn't  preoccupied  the  ground.  Then  modestly  leaving 
the  further  charge  of  this  part  of  the  case  to  his  senior, 
he  went  into  a  frank  account  of  the  relative  positions  of 
plaintiff  and  defendant.  This  portion  he  addressed  of 
course  to  the  jury.  He  referred  them  back — some  of 
them — to  early  times.  Times  when  Mr.  Magroy  and 
the  husband  of  the  defendant  were  young  adventurers 
together.  When  the  world  and  fortune  went  against 
the  former,  and  favored  the  latter.  "When — he  spoke  of 
it  with  reluctance,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  cause — about 
the  very  time  Mr.  March  made  the  purchase  of  the 
homestead  now  in  question,  he  granted  out  of  his  slender 
means,  the  first  assistance  the  blunt,  ill-favored  young 
Scotchman  ever  received  at  American  hands,  lie  dwelt 
not  long  here,  but  he  did  emphasize  the  notoriety  both 
of  Mr.  March's  T)ona  fide  purchase,  and  of  the  indis 
putable  nature  of  the  title  which  was  derived  from  the 
son  of  old  M.  Fabiens,  deceased,  and  well  known  as  an 


THE     TRIAL.  311 

eccentric  but  never,  never  a  crazy  being ;  a  being  to 
whose  foresight  the  city  was.  even  now  indebted  for  the 
beauty  and  business  convenience  of  its  growth.  He 
spoke  of  the  uninterrupted  prosperity  of  Mr.  Magroy 
after  the  first  stepping-stone,  and  of  Mr.  >March's  more 
toilsome  career  as  a  business  man  ;  of  the  friendship 
subsisting  so  warmly  between  the  two  families  up  to  the 
time  of  Mr.  March's  decease  ;  of  Mr.  Magroy's  sudden 
and  surprising  coldness,  and  from  that  day  his  increasing 
enmity  ;  his  persecution,  by  getting  into  his  hands  the 
agency  of  the  cottage  payments,  and  exacting  such  rigid 
compliance  under  the  most  Avretched  circumstances  of 
Mrs.  March,  and  in  the  worst  times,  times  when  men 
universally  relaxed  the  rigidity  of  their  just  claims; 
his  persecution,  by  attempting  to  deprive  the  family  of 
the  assistance  derived  from  the  salary  of  Guilford 
March ;  nay,  his  purchasing  this  worthless  title  itself; 
his  contumelious  insults  to  Mrs.  March  (great  sensa 
tion  among  the  spectators) ;  his  slanderous  accusations 
against  the  spotless  character  of  her  daughter.  (Im 
mense  sensation,  and  looks  of  wonderment  and  indig 
nation.)  It  was  necessary  then,  he  continued,  not  noti 
cing  the  tumult,  which  soon  subsided,  to  search  for  the 
secret  cause  of  this  long  series  of  events.  The  tears 
stood  in  the  young  lawyer's  eyes,  as  he  looked  towards 
Allen,  his  dearest  friend,  and  apologized  in  a  manly, 
friendly,  and  delicate  way,  for  dragging  family  secrets 
into  such  an  arena.  Poor  Allen  was  overcome,  and 
burying  his  face  in  his  handkerchief,  said  in  a  low  husky 
voice — 


312  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Go  on.     Go  on,  for  all  our  sakes." 

My  brother  then  adverted  to  the  grand  motive  of  the 
plaintiff's  conduct.  His  laudable  ambition  for  his  son, 
and  at  the  same  time  his  unparental  conduct,  his  harsh 
ness,  and  violence,  his  fears  lest  he  should  many  into  a 
poor  family.  His  malice  against  the  unfortunate  mem 
bers  of  that  family,  the  innocent,  yet  lasting  monuments 
of  his  own  days  of  early  poverty. 

At  this  disclosure  cries  of  "  Shame !  shame !  shame !" 
were  heard. 

The  proud  old  Mr.  Magroy  raised  his  head,  and  turn 
ing  towards  the  spectators,  flung  upon  them  fierce  looks 
of  defiance  and  rage. 

Renewed  and  louder,  and  more  numerous  cries  of 
"  Shame !  shame !  shame !"  arose.  Mr.  Magroy  stood  up 
and  faced  the  assembly. 

The  judge  threatened  to  clear  the  court,  and  John 
begged  the  multitude  to  save  him  and  his  family  the 
pain  of  any  expression  of  their  feelings.  The  jury 
regarded  the  scene  with  amiable  benevolence.  The 
foreman  thought  the  people  ought  to  consider  both  sides, 
and  the  other  jurymen  nodded  "yes."  Mr.  John 
March  resumed. 

The  highest  proof  possible  of  the  existence  of  the  feel 
ings  he  had  disclosed  on  the  part  of  his  honored  friend 
the  plaintiff  consisted  in  the  treatment  of  his  own,  his 
only,  son.  Driven  from  the  paternal  roof  penniless, 
disinherited  for  ever,  this  youth  had  grown  up  in  the 
midst  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  child  of  evil  for 
tunes,  as  one  born  under  some  malignant  star  ;  and  yet 


THE     TRIAL.  313 

his  manner  of  life  was  the  best  guarantee  for  his  inno 
cence  and  virtues,  and  his  unmerited  persecution,  along 
with  that  of  an  innocent  family,  with  whom  too — such 
had  been  his  desire  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  his 
father — he  had  had  no  sort  of  personal  intercourse  for 
years,  but  had  been  a  self-banished  man,  where  he  was 
most  loved  and  best  known  ;  a  hermit  near  a  garden  of 
roses  ;  an  outcast  with  paradise  in  view.  Some  one 
called  out,  "  Three  cheers  for  Allen  Magroy !"  The 
crowd  arose  and  gave  three  cheers. 

The  judge's  face  lightened,  the  marshal's  voice  thun 
dered — without  avail. 

In  the  confusion  the  heavy  falling  of  a  body  was  unno 
ticed  by  all  but  Allen  Magroy  and  M.  Latrobe,  both  of 
whom  sprang  to  the  assistance  of  the  elder  Mr.  Magroy, 
who  now  lay  upon  the  floor,  his  mouth  bleeding  pro 
fusely.  They  raised  him  in  their  arms.  The  spectators 
who  were  nearest  to  the  little  partition  which  separated 
the  court  from  the  laity,  made  an  effort  to  get  within, 
but  were  repelled  by  the  marshal  and  his  assistants. 
The  judge  pathetically  requested  that  order  and  silence 
might  be  restored,  to  save  him  the  necessity  of  clearing 
the  court  at  a  moment  when  so  great  and  general  an 
interest  was  felt  in  the  cause. 

The  spectators  complied  with  his  just  appeal,  and 
order  and  silence  prevailed. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Magroy  was  raised  to  a  chair.  He 
coughed  and  spat  out  large  quantities  of  blood.  At  last 
he  was  able  to  utter  in  a  faint  voice, 

14 


314  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Thy  forgiveness  Allen.  I  have  wronged  thee.  Oh  ! 
God  !  I  see  it  now.  I  see  " his  voice  sank  away. 

Allen  was  silently  weeping.  M.  Latrobe  had  already 
dispatched  a  messenger  after  Doctor  Mendry.  The 
clerk  of  the  court  brought  a  pitcher  of  water.  Mr. 
Magroy  drank  and  grew  apparently  easier. 

"  Is  shahere  Allen  ?" 

"Who,  my  father?" 

""Who?  who  but  Maud  the  daughter  of  my  old 
friend  ?  The  daughter  of  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved, 
and  whom  I  never  forgave  for  marrying  him. 

"  Is  she  here  ?  quick  !  good  people,  quick  !" 

My  mother  and  Maud  stood  near  the  wretched  dying 
man. 

"  Here  is  Maud,"  said  M.  Latrobe. 

"  Truly  she  ?  I  grow  blind  and  dizzy,"  he  murmured, 
and  a  new  fit  of  coughing  up  blood  ensued. 

More  water  was  administered.     His  voice  came  back. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Allen.     You  forgive  me  '2" 

"  God  knows  I  do,  and  did  long,  long  ago." 

"  Now  hers,  haste  !"  he  cried. 

M.  Latrobe  placed  the  hand  of  my  sister  in  that  of 
the  cold,  quivering  man. 

He  put  it  in  Allen's. 

"  My  children,  be  hap-py !" 

Doctor  Mendry  urged  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

Too  late  !     Too  late  ! 

The  hush  of  death  suddenly  falls  on  the  assembly.  The 
pulse  of  Time  stands  still.  .  A  calm  sweet  voice  is  heard. 


THE     TKIAL.  315 

"  O  God  all  seeing,  all  listening,  all  feeling,  all  know 
ing,  God  !  who  weigheth  not  our  merits,  but  pardoneth 
oar  offences,  receive  into  thy  bosom,  we  beseech  thce, 
the  troubled  spirit  of  our  brother." 

The  low  amen  was  heard  like  a  murmur  of  the  sea. 
And  the  pulse  of  Time  went  on. 


316  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

PROSPECT   AND   RETROSPECT. 

Old  Time  will  end  our  story, 

But  no  time,  if  we  end  well,  will  end  our  glory. 

BEAUMOST  &  FLETCHER. 

THE  period  of  my  furlough  from  the  Military 
Academy,  at  the  end  of  two  years  from  admission,  was 
selected  for  the  consummation  of  two  events.  It  was 
likewise  the  occasion  of  Major  Fontenoy's  return  from 
Europe,  whither  he  had  gone  to  seek  diversion  from 
tmrest  and  loneliness.  The  better  to  shake  off  painfully 
pleasing  associations  he  had  cut  himself  off  meanwhile, 
even  from  correspondence  with  us. 

Major Fontenoy. — "Then  Magroy  left  a  statement  in 
writing,  which  has  created  pity  and  respect  for  his 
memory,  hey,  Walter." 

Walter. — "  Yes,  it  was  found  with  the  will.  I  have 
been  favored  with  a  copy.  Here  it  is : 

"  '  From  frequent  attacks  on  brain  and  body,  I  am 
solemnly  warned  that  Archibald  Magroy's  remaining 
sands  are  few  and  fleetino-.  Even  this  moment  is  but  an 


PROSPECT     AND     RETROSPECT.  317 

interval  between  periods  of  attack,  which  drive  me  mad. 
I  have  done  injustice  to  many,  and  unhappily  worse,  to 
those  I  love  best  on  earth.  First,  to  the  relict  of  my 
early  friend  and  benefactor,  "Wingfleet  March.  She  was 
the  only  woman  I  ever  loved  as  a  man  should  love,  and 
the  only  being  I  ever  hated  as  a  man  can  hate.  Her 
preference  for  another  stung  me  to  the  heart.  I  never 
asked  the  world's  sympathy,  but  my  all  necessary,  my 
only  craving  for  human  love  was  shipwrecked  on  her. 
I  quickly  married  after  my  rejection,  and  plunged  into 
business  and  study.  My  hatred  was  dissembled  till  the 
death  of  Mr.  March,  in  whose  business  perplexities  I 
held  an  unseen  hand.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  I 
rushed  openly  after  my  prey.  From  that  hour  my 
extreme  wretchedness  began.  There  is  no  peace  for  the 
wicked.  Amen.' 

[ANOTHER  DATE.] 

"  'I  feel  deeply  humiliated  and  penitent,  and  have  felt 
so  during  lucid  intervals  for  years.  Yet  ever  since 
revenge  became  dominant,  a  horrible,  irresistible  black 
ness  of  darkness  has  enveloped  my  senses,  and  covered 
the  light  of  faith,  reason,  and  conscience,  which  yet 
ever  and  anon  flashes  out  like  the  lightning.  The  Bible 
has  at  such  moments  been  my  solace.  Yet  in  my 
clouded  hours  the  texts  and  events  of  the  holy  book 
haunt  my  gloomy  imagination  like  gibbering  spectres, 
wearing  the  forms  of  the  dearest  ones  on  earth.' 


318  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

[ANOTHER  DATE.] 

" '  To  God,  whom  I  love  when  reason  sits  with  me,  I 
commend  my  spirit  for  forgiveness.  To  men  I  make 
what  reparation  lies  in  my  power.  My  son  is  beyond 
the  reach  of  want.  He  is  the  architect  of  his  own  good 
name,  a  true  American.  I  leave  him  my  blessing.' ': 

Walter. — '"This  is  all  that  was  found  written  by  his  own 
hand.  In  the  will,  a  tutorship  for  the  classical  language 
is  endowed  at  the  University,  a  legacy  of  three  hundred 
a  year  is  left  to  the  present  Mrs.  Magroy,  whom  he  calls 
Mistress  Fidgets,  that  cunning  promptress  of  evil ;'  a 
thousand  a  year  is  left  to  Maud  March  ;  that  portion 
of  Lilac  Cottage  premises,  which  he  had  lately  pur 
chased,  is  left  to  Guilford  ;  to  the  city  he  devises  a  large 
park,  to  be  selected  and  the  grounds  laid  out  and 
adorned  by  Major  Fontenoy.  The  remainder,  constitu 
ting  the  bulk  of  his  fortune,  was  devised  to  my  mother 
without  conditions." 

Major. — '"  Had  some  honor,  hey  !  I  knew  it,  hey  ! 
And  the  executors  ?" 

Walter. — "  Are  M.  Latrobe  and  Guilford  March." 

Major.—"  By-the-by,  how  does  the  young  commo 
dore,  hey,  prosper  ?" 

Walter. — "  He  has  risen  with  the  tide  of  prosperity, 
which  seems  to  have  overflown  the  banks  of  the  whole 
country  bordering  on  these  inland  seas.  His  activity 
has  kept  pace  with  the  demands  of  the  swelling  sail  of 


PKOSPECT     AND     EETROSPECT.  319 

a  commerce,  whose  rapid  advance  has  astonished  the 
world." 

Major. — "  Rather  high-flown  speech  for  a  soldier, 
hey  !" 

"  In  short,  he  is  called  the  Young  Commodore  of  the 
Lakes." 

Major.—"  Rich,  hey  !     Good  !  hey  !" 

Walter. — "Not  yet  rich,  dear  major.  Too  much  at 
stake  yet." 

Major. — "  Ever  think  of  farm  life  ?" 

Walter. — "  Yes,  it  is  still  the  phantom  he  sees  beyond, 
and  follows  afar.  He  has  just  purchased  and  fitted  up 
Millbrook  cottage,  and,  with  a  pony  phaeton,  will 
drive  into  town  to  do  his  business.  He  hopes  in  a  few 
years  to  be  able  to  retire,  and  abandon  the  exciting 
world  for  the  soothing  employments  of  rustic  life — 
that  is,  on  a  large  scale." 

The  scene  changes,  and  the  major  and  myself  stand  in 
the  library  of  Lilac  Cottage,  in  the  midst  of  perfumed 
bouquets,  floating  veils,  white  gloves  and  flowing  robes. 
Here  is  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cradle,  now  D.D.,  but  Doctor 
Cradle  don't  sound  familiar  quite  yet.  And  here  is 
M.  Latrobe  to  give  away  the  brides.  And  here  is  the 
mother — I  was  going  to  say — of  both  brides.  And  here 
finally  are  the  major,  John  and  his  wife,  and  Guilford 
March. 

Wedding  guests  are  waiting  in  parlor  and  hall.  The 
door  is  thrown  open.  Dr.  Cradle  moves  forward  in 
advance,  the  two  happy  couples  follow  after.  Allen 


320  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  Maud  first,  a  splendid  couple ;  she  with  downcast 
eyes,  her  veil  and  bridal- wreath  circling  those  light 
waves  of  hair,  breaking  into  fleecy  foam  around  her 
shoulders,  and  he  with  his  long  black  locks  and  proud 
yet  gentle  motion,  graceful  as  ever.  Then  Guilford  and 
Mabel.  He  a  frank,  hearty,  stout  youth,  with  rounded 
face  and  girl-like  eyes,  and  she,  Mabel !  my  Mabel 

My  eyes  swam  so  whenever  I  looked  at  her,  and  do 
so  now  when  I  think  of  it,  I  could  not  see.  I  cannot 
describe  Mabel.  Then  came  Major  Fontenoy  and 
myself,  the  two  groomsmen,  who  took  our  places  on  the 
flanks  of  the  line  when  brought  up.  Finally  my  mother 
and  M.  Latrobe.  No,  the  last  of  all  was  Bowes,  rubbing 
her  hands  on  the  cleanest  white  muslin  apron  one  ever 
saw. 

"But  how  were  the  brides  dressed?"  everybody  asks. 

Truly  that  is  beyond  my  knowledge.  But  if  the  pub 
lisher  will  wait  till  I  can  ask  Mabel 

Ah  !  that  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  good  old  fashioned 
weddings  in  our  city — so  I  have  often  been  told.  They 
promise  me  the  like  of  it  when  I  bring  my  bride. 
Alas  !  good  friends,  that  day  will  never  come  !  Major 
Fontenoy  and  I  are  sworn  lovers  for  life. 

"  But  how  did  the  major  come  to  go  to  Europe  ? 
There  is  some  mystery  about  that  ?" 

Only  three  of  us  knew  it.  The  major,  myself,  and 
Mabel. 

"  What !  did  the  little  witch  flirt  with  the  good  old 
major  ?" 


PROSPECT     AND     RETROSPECT.  321 

No.  She  never  flirts — that  is  she  never  intends  to 
flirt.  But  some  way  or  other,  the  major,  silly  simpleton  ! 
fell  into  the  dazzle  of  her  eyes. 

"  Julius  Caesar,  hey  !"  he  swore  to  me,  confidentially. 
"  I  couldn't  help  it!  if  there  were  a  whole  battalion  of 
Mauds  and  Mabels  before  me,  all  standing  at  charge 
bayonet,  I  couldn't  help  dropping  on  my  knees  to  each 
one  in  succession,  with  an  offer  of  my  hand,  hey ! 
emphatically,  hand,  hey  !" 

"  Dear  major,"  I  cried,  "  this  hand  is  the  helper  of 
widows,  it  has  encouraged  weakness,  and  poverty,  and 
distress.  It  has  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  the  oppressor. 
And,"  I  added,  smiling,  "  it  has  waved  as  handsome  a 
compliment  to  lady  fair,  as  that  of  any  Chevalier  Bayard 
of  the  olden  time." 

And  again  we  renewed  our  vows  of  mutual  fidelity 
for  life. 

But  on  with  your  story,  sir. 

Allen  and  Maud  dwelt  with  Mrs.  March  until  the 
death  of  Fidgets,  whom  my  mother  prevailed  upon — 
without  difficulty — to  occupy  the  Magroy  mansion. 
Allen  then  took  his  little  bird  to  dwell  among  the 
boughs  of  the  paternal  tree.  Two  fledglings,  Mabel  and 
Fontenoy,  chirp  from  their  nest. 

I  returned  home  again  on  graduating  from  "West 
Point,  and  deposited  my  diploma  in  a  cylindrical  tin 
box  with  Guilford,  who  by  this  time  had  built  a  sweet 
little  house — just  large  enough  for  me  and  my  friend 

the  Major — directly  above  the  butternut  bank.     To  this 

14* 


322  SHOEPAC     EECOL  LECTIONS. 

delightful  spot  Mabel  comes  every  morning,  when  I 
visit  them  on  furlough,  and  sits  with  her  sewing,  and 
little  Walter,  or  little  Maud,  and  the  Major  and  me, 
while  little  Guilford  blows  dandelions  and  chases  butter 
flies  outdoors.  In  fact,  they  have  been  with  me  while 
chronicling  the  events  of  our  family  history  ;  and  fallen 
out  of  patience  into  a  passion  over  it,  so  many  times, 
and  so  often  protested  they  would  have  no  such  respon 
sibility  in  the  affair,  predicting  my  utter  failure  and  dis 
grace  in  trying  my  hand  at  authorship,  that  I  have 
ceased  to  consult  them  altogether. 

Meanwhile,  the  war  with  Mexico  came  on.  Major 
Fontenoy  got  a  regiment,  and  on  the  close  of  the  cam 
paign  again  left  the  service — with  the  rank  of  gene 
ral. 

"  Walter  was  breveted  twice  for  gallantry,  and  is  now 
called  Major  March." 

I  protest,  gentle  reader,  that  my  friend  Fontenoy  wrote 
that  sentence  in  my  absence.  I  have  no  false  modesty 
in  the  matter,  but  as  I  have  travelled  along  with  you  so 
far  as  a  stripling,  I  prefer  not  to  be  known  as  an  old 

%y- 

The  youngsters  are  treading  on  my  weary  old  heels, 
and  I  am  innocently  trampling  on  their  ambitious  toes. 
It  is  the  hope  of  both  parties,  however,  that  the  next 
Congress,  with  their  young  life,  and  opposed  as  they  will 
be  to  the  rust  lingering  on  our  institutions,  it  is  hoped, 
I  say,  that  they  may  pass  a  law  creating  a  retired  list  for 
us  worn  out  veterans. 


PROSPECT      AND      RETROSPECT.  323 

Though  confessedly  "  the  happiest  iiiaii  in  America,'' 
yet,  in  one  respect,  Guilford  the  Doer's  youthtfnl  expec 
tation  is  not  realized.  His  mother  cannot  be  prevailed 
upon  to  forsake  Lilac  Cottage  for  Millbrook.  She  says 
she  must  keep  up  the  old  house  for  Walter's  sake,  and 
continues  to  delude  herself  with  the  fond  hope  of  my 
bringing  her  a  new  daughter  some  day.  Meantime,  she 
does  the  honor  of  Lilac  Cottage  with  old  French  hospi 
tality.  Here  the  young  people  all  gather  to  keep  holi 
day,  and  assisted  by  Bowes,  together  with  Dick  and  the 
blue-eyed  Mary,  who,  with  their  children,  live  in  a  little 
cottage  below,  on  what  was  known  as  the  cut-off,  Mrs. 
March  dispenses  flowers  among  her  neighbors,  and 
charity  and  gentle  words  to  the  poor  of  the  city. 

M.  Latrobe-*-now  no  more — retiring  from  the  cares 
of  state,  and  the  pursuits  of  business,  divided  his  green 
old  age  between  Lilac  Cottage  and  Millbrook. 

o  «-> 

Abe,  who  was  forced  to  abandon  stage-driving,  by  the 
laying  of  railway  tracks,  for  a  modern  city  hack,  came 
at  last  to  Guilford—''  his  last  school-fellow  " — Abe  said, 
and  besought  to  be  admitted  to  Millbrook,  where  he 
turns  out  a  capital  ostler,  though  but  a  tolerable  farmer. 
His  shining,  and  high-mettled  steeds,  with  brass- 
mounted  saddles,  burnished  to  the  skies,  are  always  at 
the  service  of  Major— no,  General  Fontenoy  and  myself. 
The  general  takes  a  five-railed  fence  at  a  leap  with  his 
horse,  while  I  am  fain  to  take  down  the  bars  by  hand. 

Poor  Tapes  is  dead. 


324  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Gentle  reader  !  If  over  the  dreamy  career  of  "Walter 
March,  or  the  more  practical  good  deeds  of  his  friends, 
you  find  aught  to  feed  upon  with  pleasure,  or  to  sip  with 
the  refreshing  of  useful  truth,  let  this  be  the  acknow 
ledgment  of  his  chief  reward,  and  the  response  of  a 
Grateful  heart. 


JEPTHA     JUMPS'     SPEECH.  325 


JEPTHA    JUMPS'  SPEECH. 

Take  heed  what  you  say,  sir ! 
An  hundred  honest  men !  why,  if  there  were 
So  many  i'th'  city,  twere  enough  to  forfeit 
Their  charter. 

SHIRLEY'S  GAMESTER. 

ON  my  return  home  from  Washington,  I  saw  the 
name  of  Jumps  in  the  Gazette.  He  was  now  a  mem 
ber  of  the  State  Legislature. 

I  called  at  his  lodgings  immediately,  and  sent  up  my 
name  to  the  Honorable  Jeptha  Jumps.  He  seemed  as 
pleased  to  receive  me  as  if  he  were  still  a  common 
mortal,  for  which  I  felt  duly  grateful. 

"  I  am  in  the  swamp  now,  you  know  !"  he  said. 

"Do  you  term  the  House  of  Representatives  of  a 
sovereign  state  a  swamp  ?" 

"  Yes."  he  answered,  "  worse  than  any  tamarack 
swamp,  a  tarnation  sight ;  full  of  pricks  and  thorns,  and 
muddy  water  up  to  here."  He  raised  his  forefinger  to 
his  neck — which,  by  the  way,  now  sported  a  white 
,  cravat. 

"  How  did  you  get  into  the  scrape  ?" 

"  Wall,  last  autumn,  after  depositing  my  hopeful 
Joram  with  your  folks,  I  took  a  tramp  out  West,  to  see 


t326  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  oak  openings  and  the  pe-rairah  lands.  And  arter 
I  came  home  the  boys  in  my  neighborhood  run  my 
name  up  on  the  trees  as  candidate  for  this  ere  office.  I 
tried  to  haul  off,  but  it  warn't  no  kind  of  use ;  have  me 
in  they  would,  for,  says  they,  you're  the  only  honest 
man  in  the  district,  soft  saudering  me  up,  you  see." 

"  Who  was  your  competitor  ?" 

"  The  Rev.  Mr.  Milkwhite  ;  so,  you  see,  I  had  all  the 
petticoat  influence  agin  me,"  said  J  umps.  with  a  wink. 
"That  feeble  pattern  of  human  nater  attempted  to 
catch  my  daughter,  too !" 

"  What !"  I  exclaimed,  "  not  Susannah  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  little  Suz,  sir.  He  courted  her  off  and  on 
for  two  years,  and  she  refused  him  regularly  every 
month  ;  he  preached  to  her  about  having  a  call  to  be  a 
minister's  wife,  and  doing  good  in  the  world,  prayed 
over  her,  besieged  my  wife  and  half  made  her  crazy, 
too.  Finalty,  Suz  came  to  me  and  said  she  couldn't 
stand  it.  I'll  adopt  a  course,  says  I ;  so  down  I  goes  to 
where  the  crittur  lives,  and  says,  says  I :  '  Rev.  Mr. 
Milkwhite,  you  mustn't  come  around  my  house  persecu- 
tin'  my  Suz.  She  don't  take  a  likin'  to  you,  and  won't 
have  you  no  how.'  Then  the  crittur  promised  as  how 
he'd  let  her  alone  on  his  sacred  word  of  honor.  But 
what  should  appear  at  Green  Run  next  day  but  the 
whole  session  ?  They  walked  straight  into  my  house,  and 
held  a  prayer-meeting  over  Suz — I  wasn't  to  hum — 
wrestled  in  spirit  with  my  wife,  and  made  her  and  Suz 
both  cry,  and  said  it  was  her  solemn  bounden  duty  to 


JEPTHA     JUMPS'      SPEECH.  327 

marry  that  ere  little  snipe  of  a  parson.  My  wife  gin  in 
to  them.  But  Suz,  she  held  out  till  I  cum  hum,  and  the 
way  I  made  old  Pipelegs,  Peppergrass,  and  the  rest  on 
'em,  scatter,  was  a  caution  now,  I  tell  you — no  more  of 
Rev.  Mr.  Milkwhite  at  my  house,  I  tell  you. 

"  Wall,  since  that,  the  tarnation  little  crittur  has 
slandered  me  on  all  occasions  behind  my  back — told 
the  neighborhood  I  wras  a  heathen,  and  dead  to  the 
cause  of  Christianity,  and  when  he  heard  I  was  candi 
date  for  the  Legislature,  he  up  and  said  he'd  run  agin  me. 
That  was  the  time  I  took  off  my  coat,  Walter." 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  I,  laughing. 

"They'd  got  sick  of  the  village  lawyer,  and  all  on 
'em  owed  the  village  doctor,  and  the  village  shopkeeper 
wouldn't  trust  most  on  'em  for  cotton  calico,  and  indigo 
blueu,  and  so  they  came  down  on  me." 

"  How  do  you  feel  in  your  new  position  2" 

"  Like   a  French  hunter,  paddlin'  his  canoe  among 
lame  ducks  in  among  the  rushes." 
'How  so?" 

"  Wall,  every  now  and  then,  in  some  of  my  strokes, 
I  hit  one  of  'em  without  seein'  or  thinkin'  of  the  critturs, 
and  he  hain't  got  wings  to  fly  out  of  my  way,  but  still 
manages  to  dive  under  and  come  up  somewhere  else." 

Shortly  after  this  interview,  I  attended  an  evening 
session  of  the  House.  The  measure  under  consideration 
was  one  of  general  interest ;  viz.  the  railway  system. 
After  several  long  and  one  short  speech,  from  excited 
members,  each  in  favor  of  a  road  through  his  district, 


328  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Mr.  Jumps  arose,  with  bis  honest  face  ancl  white 
cravat. 

"  Mr.  Speaker." 

The  members  winked  at  each  other,  and  many 
gathered  round  Mr.  Jumps,  crowding  the  seats  nearest 
him,  and  forcing  the  occupants  and  owners  thereof  to 
withdraw  some  of  their  lower  limbs  and  great  cowhide 
boots  from  the  tables  in  front  of  them. 

"  What  few  words  I  shall  have  to  say,  Mr.  Speaker,  I 
hope  will  be  plum  to  the  bull's  eye." 

A  titter. 

"  The  honorable  gentlemen  who  have  jined  in  the  dis 
cussion  thus  far  have  hunted  all  around  Robin  Hood's 
barn,  and  missed  the  crittur  after  all." 

People  begin  to  fill  the  galleries. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  gentlemen  discuss 
this  bill  on  the  principle  of  '  you  tickle  me  and  I'll 
tickle  you-,'  you  streak  a  railroad  through  my  village 
and  I'll  streak  one  by  your  farm." 

"  I  proposed  nothing  of  the  sort !"  exclaimed  an  hon 
orable  member  from  a  distant  village,  in  an  excited 
manner,  "  and  whoever  says  so  " 

"Lame  ducks?  Mr.  Speaker,  lame  ducks!"  said  Mr. 
Jumps,  very  composedly.  The  members  cried  out 
generally,  "  Good  !  good !  hit  him  again,  honest  Jeptha. 
Sit  down,  Fleece — Sit  down."  The  honorable  Mr. 
Fleece  subsided  into  his  seat  in  sulky,  defiant  silence. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Speaker,  if  there's  any  more  lame  ducks 
to  flutter  here  this  evening,  1  beg  on  'em  to  wait  till  I'm 


JEPTHA.  JUMPS'  SPEECH.         329 

done,  for  they  take  up  the  time  of  the  House,  and  throw 
it  on  my  shoulders. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Speaker,  we  must  buckle  into  this  subject 
like  men  working  to  lay  the  foundations  of  permanent 
institutions,  and  not  like  time-serving  politicians,  looking 
out  every  man  for  himself" — 

"  And  the  devil  take  the  hindmost !"  broke  in  a  coarse- 
looking  man,  with  long  legs,  coiled  upon  the  table  in 
front  of  him. 

"  I  never  use  such  words,"  said  Mr.  Jumps,  with  real 
dignity.  "  I  leave  them  to  the  lips  of  my  honorable 
friend  over  the  way.  Gentlemen  will  find  it  best  to 
let  me  alone,  Mr.  Speaker,  perhaps,  before  the  end  of 
the  session,"  said  Mr.  Jumps,  taking  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  must  adopt  a  course,  we  must  act  the 
part  of  men  held  to  reckoning  by  posterity." 

"  What  has  posterity  ever  done  for  me  ?"  demanded 
a  member. 

"  Nothing !  and  I  kind  o'  reckon  it  never  will !" 
returned  Mr.  Jumps. 

The  Speaker's  mallet  descended.  The  House  came  to 
order,  and  Mr.  Jumps  was  not  interrupted  again. 

"  Sir,  we  have  had  some  experience  already  pressed 
home  to  our  hearts  and  pockets.  What  do  we  see  on 
every  side  of  us  ?  Wild-cat  banks,  sir,  howling  through 
the  midnight  air  of  these  dark  and  troublesome  times. 
Wild-cat  banks,  with  broken  legs  and  broken  heads, 
and,  sir,  if  I  had  my  way,  I'd  adopt  a  course,  sir,  I'd  cut 
off  all  their  tails  as  a  warning  to  posterity,  and  hang  'em 


330        SHOEPAC  KE  COLLECT  IONS. 

on  the  political  landmarks  of  which  gentlemen  have 
talked  so  loud  and  so  learned. 

"Then,  Mr.  Speaker,  look  at  our  schools.  Congress 
donated  a  harnsome  fund  of  wild  lands,  out  of  which, 
with  prudence  and  foresight,  we  might,  and  onghter  have 
raised  up  a  system  of  schools,  with  its  mother  university, 
that  would  not  only  pay  their  own  keeping,  but  pay 
something  into  the  depleted  treasury  of  the  State. 

"  Sir  !  we  have  nothing  in  the  shape  of  State  schools 
but  broken-down  branches  of  a  university  that  has 
neither  root  nor  trunk,  affording  nothing  to  the  people, 
nothing  to  nobody,  but  the  old  ravens  that  croak  more ! 
more  !  more  !  from  the  nests  in  the  branches  which  they 
have  feathered  themselves  into  so  nicely. 

"  Now,  sir,  this  will  be  the  story  of  the  railroad,  too,  if 
we  rush  into  the  same  system  of  reckless  extravagance. 
The  intarnal  improvements  of  the  State  will  all  run  to 
waste.  No,  sir,  let  us  begin  with  moderation  and  econ 
omy,  and  sure  as  Dabol's  arithmetic,  thrift  and  prosperity 
will  follow.  Let  us  jine  hands  on  some  one  route  most 
convenient  to  all  sections,  and  do  what  we  can  on  that 
till  Congress  comes  up  to  our  help.  And,  sir,  Congress 
soon  will  come.  The  interests  of  the  West  will  not  be 
much  longer  neglected.  We  have  a  mighty  West !  a 
broad,  beautiful  West!  the  tract  of  our  wilderness  is 
wide  as  the  ocean,  sir.  These  States  are  filling  up  rap 
idly,  and  will  have  a  mighty  voice  one  of  these  days. 
Their  voice  will  be  heard  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and 
there'll  be  a  shakin'  among  the  dry  bones,  I  reckon. 


JEPTHA     JUMPS'      SPEECH.  331 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Speaker,  we  have  a  goodly  heritage.  I  see 
the  West  before  me  now.  Her  oak  openings  are  like 
the  garden  of  Eden.  Her  forests  are  boundless.  The 
etarnal  scope  of  her  pe-rairahs  is  unlimited.  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Jumps,  solemnly  concluding,  "  we  must  adopt  a 
course." 


332  BHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR. 


A   FRONTIER   EPISODE. 


ONE  evening,  my  brother  Guilford  and  myself  were 
out  enjoying  the  beauties  of  such  a  blue  star-lit  sky  as 
King  March  sometimes  canopies  himself  under  after  the 
tumult  of  a  storm.  A  little  way  above  the  city  we 
were  overtaken  by  a  sturdy-looking  pedestrian,  with  a 
knapsack  strapped  to  his  shoulders,  and  a  belt  around 
his  waist,  to  which  were  fastened  a  bowie-knife  and  a 
tin  cup. 

"  That  is  a  patriot,"  whispered  Guilford. 

The  city  was  filled  with  Canadian  refugees,  together 
with  a  promiscuous  gathering  from  various  parts  of  the 
United  States,  intent  on  taking  part  in  the  quarrel 
between  the  provinces  and  the  mother  country.  The 
people  along  the  American  frontier  sympathized  deeply 
with  the  revolutionists — and  it  was  whispered  among 
the  quid  mines,  that  even  gentlemen  connected  with 
both  state  and  general  governments  contributed  secretly 
to  the  cause.  For  these  reasons,  unless  men  were  found 
actually  assembled  in  arms,  they  were  not  likely  to 
be  molested — individuals,  notoriously  known  to  be 
"  patriots,"  came  and  went  openly. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.        333 

"  Shall  we  accost  him  ?"  inquired  Walter. 

"  If  you  like,"  replied  Guilford. 

In  a  moment  we  were  at  the  side  of  the  stranger. 

Guilford. — "  Good  evening,  friend." 

Stranger.—"  Yes  !  what  of  it  ?" 

Walter. — "  A  fine  night,  sir." 

Stranger. — "  Fine  enough  for  those  who  like  it." 

Walter. — Half  provoked — "  Fine  enough  ?  Like  it  ? 
Like  the  stars !  like  the  sweet  smell  of  spring !  which 
you  may  scent  afar,  as  the  horse  snuffs  the  battle,  and 
dilates  his  nostrils  with  pleasure  and  exultation  !" 

Stranger. — "  What  do  you  know  about  battles,  boy  ?" 

The  patriot  seemed  to  notice  for  the  first  time  my 
youthfulness,  and  grew  sociable. 

Walter. — (Laughing) — "  It  is  a  subject,  sir,  in  which  I 
take  a  deep  interest." 

Stranger. — (In  a  low  tone) — "  Then  perhaps  you  can 
tell  me  where  the  encampment  lies." 

Walter. — "  What  encampment?" 

Stranger. — "  The  patriot." 

Guilford. — "  Where  were  you  directed  to  go  ?" 

Stranger. — "To  the  second  point  of  woods,  I  think 
they  called  it  '  Shane's  Point." 

Guilford. — •"  Chene's  Point !  you  have  taken  the 
wrong  road  to  distinguish  the  points  running  out  from 
the  woods.  But,  by  following  this  road  till  you  come 
to"— 

Stranger. — "  Don't  believe  I  can  find  it,  sir,  perhaps 
you  might  be  going  part  way." 


334  SIIOEPAC    RECOLLECTIONS. 

Guilford. — "  Oh.  yes.     What   do    you   say,  Walter. 
Shall  we  go  to  the  encampment  ?" 

Walter. — "  It  would  be  quite  an  unexpected  adven 
ture — certainly,  let's  go." 

Guilford. — "  I  take  it,  messmate,  you  are  a  patriot." 
Stranger. — "  Yes,  shouldn't  wonder.     What  of  it  ?" 
Guilford.—"  From  Ohio  ?" 
Stranger.—"  No,  Canada.     What  of  it?" 
Guilford. — "  Are  there  many  Canadians  here  now  ?" 
Stranger. — "  Yery  few.      But  we  fight  in  earnest : 
but  what  of  it  ?  we  fight  for  our  country,  not  for  plunder ; 
I  Mash  there  were  more  of  us.     You  Yankees  talk  a  deal 
in  the  papers,  and  make  great  speeches,  but  when  it 
comes  to  actual  fighting  you'd  rather  let  it  out.     But 
what  of  it  ?  all  the  same  in  a  hundred  years." 
Walter. — "  Are  you  an  Englishman  ?" 
Stranger. — "  No,  I  emigrated  from  York  State  with 
my  father  and  folks  fifteen  years  ago,  and  settled  not  far 
from  Hamilton.     We  got  on  very  well  till  this  revolu 
tion  began  to  make   a  stir.     Then  we  were   suspected 
right  off.     What  of  it  ?  cried  I — might  as  well  be  hung 
for  an  old  sheep  as  a  lamb.     So  I  raised  all  the  money  I 
could,  and  determined  to  devote  myself  to  the  good 
cause.     My  father  was  pretty  old,  but  as  many  of  the 
people  around  us  were  secretly  patriots,  he  thought  he 
could  take  care  of  my  young  wife  and  the  two  unmaried 
girls.     The  night  after  I  left,  gentlemen,  my  house  was 
burnt  to  the  ground,  my  father  killed,  and  my  sisters  and 
wife  " 


THE   BATTLE   OF   WINDS OK.  .535 

The  stranger  suddenly  ceased  speaking.  His  teeth 
gnashed  together. 

Guilford. — (After  a  moment,  when  the  patriot  became 
composed)—"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,  sir.  Can  you  not 
go  on  with  your  story  ?" 

Stranger.—"  Thank  you,  sir.  There  was  a  camp  of 
volunteers  for  the  British  a  few  miles  from  our  place. 
Many  of  the  officers  and  men  belonged  to  our  neighbor 
hood,  and  we  had  always  been  on  friendly  terms  till  the 
war  broke  out— war  puts  the  devil  even  between  friends 
—But  what  of  it  ?  all  the  same  in  a  hundred  years. 
Who'd  a  thought  they'd  ever  permitted  a  neighbor's 
family  to  be  treated  so  ?" 

And  again  the  distressed  fellow  was  overpowered  by 
his  emotions,  making  such  a  horrible  noise  with  his 
teeth,  that  Guilford  and  Walter,  fearing  he  might  drop 
down  at  any  moment  with  the  lock-jaw,  endeavored  to 
keep  him  in  conversation.  Yet  there  was  only  one  sub 
ject.  In  a  moment  he  returned  to  it — his  family,  and 
threw  out  dark  hints. 

Walter.— "The  miscreants  I  how  could  they  dare?" 
Stranger.—"  Oh !  don't  you  believe  it,  young  sir.     The 
ruffian  cowards  even  killed  each  other's  sheep,  robbed 
all  the  hen-roosts,  shot  down  the  dogs,  set  fire  to  corn 
fields— caught  women,  brought  them  into  camp,   and 

O  God  1  O  God  !" 

His  deep  groans  of  distress  moved  the  brothers  to  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts. 

GuilfoTd.—"Ijf&  us  carry  your  knapsack  for  you. 
friend." 


336  BHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

Stranger. — "Thank  you,  you  are  good  fellows,  I  know  ; 
I  know  my  eyes  are  leaky.  I  can't  help  groaning,  I 
make  a  fool  of  myself — but  all  the  same  in  a  hundred 
years." 

The  brothers  unbuckled  the  knapsack  and  carried 
it  along  between  them. 

Stranger. — "  I  had  two  brothers  little  younger  than  the 
youngest  of  you.  Not  near  so  tall,  but  honest,  hearty 
lads.  "Where  they  are  God  only  knows.  "What 
became  of  my  wife  and  sisters  I  know  too  well.  The 
ruffians  over  there  " — he  pointed  towards  the  Canada 
shore — "  they  know,  and  they  must  meet  them,  and  me, 
too,  at  the  judgment  bar  of  God.  All  the  same  in  a 
hundred  years !" 

Walter. — "  Pardon  me,  but  I  feel  so  much  interested. 
Did  they  kill  the  defenceless  women  ?" 

Stranger. — "  Do  you  think  that  women  of  American 
descent,  would  ever  be  debauched  alive  ?" 

Cruilford  and  Walter. — "  Heavens !     Heavens  !" 

At  the  next  moment  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  was 
heard  behind  us.  A  small  party  of  horsemen  soon  went 
by  rapidly. 

Stranger. — "  That's  our  general !" 

Guilford.—"  Which  one  ?" 

Stranger. — "The  last  one.  He  always  lags  behind. 
He's  from  York  State,  joined  us  in  Ohio,  was  elected 
when  the  band  was  small,  as  commander  of  the  expedi 
tion.  "What  of  it  ?  He's  no  account." 

G-uttfvrd.—"  Not  fit  for  it,  eh  ?" 

Strangen\ — "Is  a  bullfrog  fit  to  drill  crows?" 


THE      BATTLE      OF      WINDSOR.  337 

Guilford. — (Glad  to  divert  the  late  bitter  train  of 
thought) — "  A  bullfrog  has  qualities  considered  by  many 
as  essential  to  the  soldier.  He  can  strut  and  swell, 
grumble  and  croak,  and  go  slowly  enough  for  any  old 

fogy." 

Stranger. — (Laughing.) — "That's  just  it!  sure  as  my 
name's  Lot !  Our  general  can  do  all  that  to  perfection. 
What  of  it  ?  Meantime,  the  crows  all  fly  away.  Just 
so.  We  marched  up  from  Toledo,  with  five  hundred 
brave  fellows.  The  ladies  worked  a  beautiful  silk 
banner,  worth  I  don't  know  how  many  hundred  dollars, 
and  presented  it  to  us.  Five  hundred  men  thanked 
them  for  it.  Now  we  have  barely  two  hundred !" 

Walter.—"  Why,  how  is  that?" 

/Stranger. — "  Ask  him  riding  on  there !  Three  nights 
ago  there  were  four  hundred  of  us  altogether  in  the 
woods,  ready  to  start.  Two  nights  ago,  three  hundred. 
But  both  nights  the  general  had  the  stomach-ache,  or 
tooth-ache,  or  something,  and  said  he  wasn't  ready  nor 
able.  So  you  see  they  got  disgusted ;  some  of  'em  out  of 
money  too,  and  had  to  go  to  work  to  earn  their  bread." 

Walter. — "But  will  he  go  to-night?  will  he  cross 
over  ?" 

Stranger. — "  He'll  have  to.  They've  got  hold  of  him, 
I  see,  and  they  swore  last  night  they'd  shoot  him,  if  he 
didn't  go." 

Guilford. — "  Can't  you  keep  together  and  prevent 
desertion?" 

Stranger. — "  No,  we  can  only  meet  nights  now,  since 

15 


338  BHOKPAC      KECOLLECTION8. 

we  reached  a  place  where  there  are  United  States  troops 
— we  don't  mind  the  militia,  Frontier  Guards  and  all 
that.  Some  of  them  attend  our  lodges,  then  go  dress 
in  uniform,  and  pace  the  streets  all  night,  pretending  to 
be  on  the  look  out  to  catch  us.  "Well,  we  rendezvous  at 
some  new  spot  in  the  woods  each  night,  and  scatter  our 
selves  during  the  day.  So  if  the  men  don't  choose 
there's  nothing  to  make  'em  come." 

We  had  turned  off  from  the  main  road,  and,  during 
many  minutes  been  ascending  a  lane,  which  led  up  to 
Chene's  Point.  The  camp  fires  were  now  visible  among 
the  trees — men  were  sitting  or  walking  around  them. 
As  we  drew  near  the  encampment,  we  met  a  couple  of 
ostlers,  belonging  to  a  livery-stable  in  the  city,  leading 
away  several  horses. 

"  That  looks  something  like,"  said  Lot,  "  they're 
sending  back  the  horses."  Our  companion  pricked  up 
at  once.  He  was  all  elation. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  taking  his  knapsack,  "  we  may  cross 
over  to-night.  We  shall  attack  Windsor,  march  straight 
to  Chatham,  and  from  there  move  down  upon  London 
and  who  knows  but  we  may  see  Hamilton  ?  What  of 
it?  Ha  !  ha !  all  the  same  in  a  hundred  years  !" 

With  a  quickened  pace  we  soon  gained  the  woods, 
and  walked  from  fire  to  fire,  and  from  group  to  group 
Lot  was  greeted  with  those  peculiar  demonstrations  of 
sympathy  which  rough  men  pay  spontaneously  to 
suffering.  But  our  friend  seemed  to  stand  little  in  need 
of  sympathy — he  was  in  good  spirits. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.        339 

"We  found  a,  determined-looking  set  of  fellows  gathered 
here — though  few  in  numbers,  nor,  with  the  exception 
perhaps  of  the  Canadian  portion,  animated  by  that 
devotion  which  true  patriotism  inspires.  No  one  would 
imagine  from  their  looks  that  a  man  among  them 
could  ever  run.  Their  heavy  beards  and  unwashed 
faces,  long  hair,  and  dogged,  sullen,  even  resolute  eyes, 
gave  them  a  fierce  brigandish  air,  or  something  more 
desperate,  which  the  glare  of  the  fire  did  not  serve  to 
diminish. 

Invited  by  Lot,  we  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
who  were  toasting  pork  and  biscuits  at  a  fire,  on  the 
ends  of  their  knives,  bayonets,  and  swords,  and  discus 
sing  the  characters  of  their  leaders,  the  events  of  the 
inarch  through  Ohio,  and  the  prospect  before  them. 
Guilford  and  myself  shared  their  food ;  and  it  was  sad 
enough  to  think,  afterwards,  that  this  was  the  last  meal 
on  earth  with  some  of  the  devoted  band. 

The  general  soon  made  his  appearance,  as  he  was 
moving  from  group  to  group,  with  a  word  here  and  a 
word  there.  The  men  seemed  to  bear  him  neither  great 
respect  nor  good-will — frequently  turning  their  backs 
upon  him.  He  was  muffled  up  in  a  camlet,  cloak,  and  a 
white  handkerchief  around  his  ears  and  face.  He 
might  have  graced  a  civic  procession  but  here  he  was 
evidently  out  of  place. 

Next  to  him  in  rank,  and  the  real  leader  of  the  expe 
dition,  was  a  tall  Kentuckian,  with  a  gruff  voice,  scarred 
face,  and  commanding  presence  ;  a  tower  of  strength, 


340  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

capitally   suited   to   desperate   enterprises.     I   did   not 
hear  his  name,  they  only  called  him  "  the  Colonel." 

Only  below  the  Colonel  in  favor  among  the  patriots 
was  Major  Putnam,  an  American  Canadian,  who  had 
abandoned  a  large  property  near  Chatham,  and  fled  to  the 
United  States,  misled  by  the  tone  of  the  popular  press 
into  the  belief  that  his  former  countrymen  were  ready  to 
march  in  a  body  for  the  deliverance  of  the  provinces. 
Active  in  forming  the  present  expedition,  his  hope  was 
set  high  when  it  lately  numbered  five  hundred — a  suffi 
cient  force,  perhaps,  to  march  through  the  Upper  Provin 
ces — but  even  now,  with  the  handful  to  which  they  had 
become  reduced,  this  true  patriot  was  resolved  to  do  so 
or  die." 

I  remember  but  one  other  conspicuous  character — 
Dandy  Jack — what  a  name  to  die  on  !  Yet  none  there 
nobler  than  Dandy  Jack — with  his  harlequinades,  his 
coat  of  many  colored  lists,  and  his  flourishing  horse- 
pistol.  He  was  the  soul  of  jocularity,  the  life  of  the 
camp,  a  genuine  descendant  of  the  true-hearted  illustri 
ous  "Wamba  the  Witless. 

At  midnight  the  order  went  round  for  the  adventurers 
to  form  ranks  in  the  lane  by  which  Guilford,  myself, 
and  the  brave  Lot  had  come.  What  provisions  remained 
were  tossed  into  the  fires.  The  men  strapped  on  their 
kits  and  knapsacks,  took  their  arms — a  promiscuous 
assortment — upon  their  shoulders,  and  silently  fell  in. 
It  were  vain  to  disguise  that  their  spirits  were  gloomy. 
But  Lot,  and  Dandy  Jack,  and  a  few  others,  threw  a 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR         341 

cheering  raj  now  and  then  along  the  ranks,  and 
the  Colonel,  and  Major  Putnam,  whatever  their  real 
feelings,  disguised  them  sufficiently  to  present  a  con 
fident  manner  to  the  men. 

On  reaching  the  main  road,  the  column  halted.  A 
murmur  ran  through  the  ranks. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  whispered  Walter  to  Lot. 

"  The  steamboat's  not  ready. 

The  delay  was  vexatious.  It  seemed  as  though  they 
were  to  be  disappointed  again  in  their  wishes  to  cross, 
and  curses  deep  not  loud,  fell  from  time  to  time  on  the 
head  of  General .  Besides,  they  were  now  assem 
bled  in  arms  within  dangerous  proximity  to  the  city. 

"  The  Frontier  Guards  will  be  upon  us,"  said  one. 

"  Oh  !  never  fear  that,"  replied  another.  "Two  thirds 
of  them  would  join  us,  with  half  a  chance  of  success." 

"The  only  man  I  fear  is  old  General  BJadey  with  his 
regulars,"  said  another.  "  That  old  fellow's  as  true  as 
steel  to  the  government,  they  say." 

"  To  the  devil  with  the  government,  old  Matty  and  all ! 
what's  the  use  of  their  humbuggin  ?"  said  a  tall  Hiber 
nian,  who  evidently  had  little  faith  in  the  sincerity  of 
the  President. 

"Faix!"  said  Dandy  Jack,  imitating  the  celebrated 
sweet  brogue  of  his  friend,  "  if  I  only  had  that  old  fox 
Matty  by  the  tail,  be  jabers  !" 

A  low  laugh  was  heard  along  the  line  at  this  freak  ot 
Dandy  Jack's  fancy,  and  again  all  was  silent  until  the 
figure  of  the  Colonel  was  seen  approaching  from  towards 
the  head  of  the  column. 


342  SHOEPAC    RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  All  right,  men  !  The  Frontiers  are  not  out  to-night, 
and  the  regulars  are  asleep  in  their  barracks,"  said  the 
Colonel,  in  a  low,  husky  voice,  as  he  passed  by  us — the 
former  portion  of  this  intelligence  was  a  mistake. 

Soon  afterwards  another  figure  moved  down  the  line. 
It  was  Putnam. 

"  Men !"  said  he,  "  after  we  cross  over,  be  careful 
what  vou  drink.  I  have  intelligence  from  Chatham  that 

•>  o 

the  brandy  in  the  inns,  and  the  water  in  the  wells,  are 
to  be  poisoned  along  the  whole  road."  Then  pausing,  he 
took  out  his  watch  and  was  lost  a  moment  in  deep 
abstraction.  As  he  recovered  I  heard  him  say,  "  In 
four  hours  we  shall  know  our  destiny." 

This  figure  disappeared. 

"  I'll  drink  nothing  but  blood  !"  said  the  fierce  Hiber 
nian. 

"  And  I'll  drink  nothing  but  whisky,"  echoed  Dandy 
Jack,  again  imitating  the  Irish  ex-patriot. 

Ere  the  laughter  died  away,  the  column  resumed  its 
march  down  the  road,  and  having  gained  a  half-mile, 
suddenly  turned  to  the  left.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
stood  upon  a  wharf  at  the  end  of  which  lay  a  steamer 
letting  off  steam — an  operation  it  seemed  to  perform 
in  a  low  tone,  with  the  spirit  of  stealthy  secrecy  which 
characterized  all  the  movements  of  this  midnight  expe 
dition. 

The  hardy  adventurers  were  soon  got  on  board,  Guil- 
ford  and  Walter  shook  hands  with  Lot  and  Dandy  Jack 
— how  much  sadder  we,  than  they ! 

"You'll  hear  of  me,  boys,"  said  Dandy  Jack. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOK.        343 

"  We  hope  to  hear  of  your  success,  old  i'ellow,"  said 
Quilford. 

"Yes,"  said  Dandy  Jack,  "this  horse-pistol  and  I 
were  born  to  distinguish  ourselves.  I  mean  to  shoot 

Colonel  • in  person."  lie  spoke  the  name  of  the 

magistrate,  who  bearing  likewise  a  commission  in  the 
Canada  militia,  \vielded  both  civil  and  military  com 
mand  in  the  district  about  to  be  invaded. 

Alas  !  we  remembered  Dandy  Jack's  words  ! 

There  were  several  long  and  provoking  delays  in  get 
ting  the  steamer  off.  I  secretly  indulged  the  hope  that 
something  would  prevent  the  further  prosecution  of  this 
ill-starred  enterprise.  Some  one  on  board  the  vessel  cut 
the  tiller-rope  once,  again,  aifd  again.  Finally  a  guard 
of  trusty  men  was  established  along  the  rope  from  the 
rudder  to  the  wheel..  The  hawser  was  lifted  off  the 
posts  on  the  wharf,  the  wheels  of  the  steamer  commen 
ced  revolving,  a  low  cheer  was  heard  from  the  few  on 
shore — including  some  members  of  the  Frontier  Guards 
— answered  by  those  on  board,  and  the  "  Champlain  " 
moved  out  into  the  stream. 

We  watched  the  progress  of  the  vessel. 

It  steamed  up  the  river,  finding  it  impossible,  proba 
bly,  to  cross  at  once  through  the  ice,  which  was  floating 
down  in  large  thick  masses,  from  the  lakes  above. 

Two  hours  we  waited,  watching  anxiously.  Then 
thinking  it  would  be  morning  before  the  Champlain 
could  land  her  precious  cargo,  Guilford  and  myself 
returned  to  Lilac  Cottage. 


344  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

Arising  from  a  troubled  sleep  at  dawn,  I  looked  out 
upon  the  river.  The  Barracks  on  the  Canadian  side 
were  in  flames — nearly  consumed. 

"  Three  cheers  !  Guilford,  they  have  succeeded  !" 

We  could  distinguish  small  compact  parties  of  men 
under  arms  marching  on  the  town  of  Windsor — -a  little 
distance  below  the  British  Barracks.  Over  the  heads 
of  one  of  the  parties  waved  the  patriot  tri-color.  For 
awhile  they  are  lost  among  the  buildings  of  Windsor. 
Now  they  are  seen  moving  irregularly  over  a  meadow, 
and  into  an  orchard  in  rear  of  the  town.  It  is  doubtless 

their  intention,  either  to  await  there  Colonel — 

with  the  British,  or  to  take  the  most  direct  route  to 
Chatham  through  the  woods. 

A  small,  but  well-ordered  body,  is  now  seen  approach 
ing  Windsor,  from  below.  It  is  the  British  force  from 
Sandwich.  Now  they  are  hid  by  the  town.  Now  they 
are  seen  approaching  the  orchard.  Smoke  rises  above 
the  tops  of  the  apple  trees.  A  volley  of  musketry  is 
faintly  heard — another — the  smoke  thickens — there  is  a 
promiscuous  roar  of  sounds,  swelling  and  sinking  at  inter 
vals — small  puffs  of  smoke  are  twining  up  as  if  writhing 
in  agony,  here  and  there  from  the  orchard — sounds 
die  away — the  air  is  no  longer  polluted — and  the  battle 
of  Windsor  is  fought  and  won. 

Meantime  there  was  a  vehement  excitement  among 
the  people  of  our  little  city.  Thousands  flocked  to  the 
wharves ;  some,  the  better  to  behold  the  conflict,  others 
with  arms  in  their  hands,  with  the  view  of  crossing  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.       345 

river  to  the  assistance  of  the  patriots,  with  whom  every 
body  sympathized — vociferously.  The  tops  of  the 
houses  were  covered  with  spectators.  They  swarm  upon 
the  rigging  of  the  vessels  at  the  docks.  They  fill  the 
streets  leading  to  the  river-side.  United  States  troops 
of  the  regular  service  are  marching  hurriedly  from 
street  to  street  and  from  wharf  to  wharf;  to  prevent  our 
citizens  from  invading  the  dominions  of  a  nation  with 
whom  we  are  at  peace.  The  Frontier  Guard  are  out 
in  full  feather,  with  their  splendid  grey  uniforms  and 
fine  music,  all  zeal  to  close  the  stable-door  after  the 
steed  has  flown.  The  multitude  cheer  them  as  they 
pass,  but  groan  and  hiss  at  the  regulars.  Discrimina 
ting  multitude  !  The  Frontiers  are  drawing  pay  from 
government  on  voluntary  services — the  regulars  are 
marched  to  the  spot  nolens  volens.  That  plucky  little 
band  of  Frenchmen,  the  Shoepacs,  are  not  out  on.  this 
occasion.  They  refuse  the  pay  of  the  government,  and 
resolutely  stay  at  home. 

There  is  not  so  much 'ice  now  running  in  the  water, 
and  a  swift  little  steamer,  with  a  detachment  of  regulars, 
and  a  piece  of  artillery  on  board,  is  plying  up  and 
down,  preventing  boats  from  crossing  to  Windsor.  The 
detachment  on  this  steamer  have  the  most  odious  duty 
to  perform,  and  are  hooted  loudly  by  the  mob  on  shore. 

On  that  long  wharf  stands  old  General  Bladey,  with 
his  thin  white  hair  floating  in  the  morning1  breeze. 

o  o 

Everything  to  preserve  the  neutrality  is  done  under  his 
direction.  The  general  watched  the  battle,  as  it  was 

15* 


346  SHOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

fought,  with  a  kindled  eye.  No  doubt  his  sympathies 
as  a  man — even  as  a  soldier — were  against  the  British, 
for  he  had  fought  them  himself,  was  a  hero  of  Lundy's 
Lane ;  yet  his  duty — ah,  that  is  a  different  thing.  That 
little  word  "  duty,"  was  the  general's  polar  star  through 
life — doubtless  it  guided  him  safely  into  heaven. 

o  «/ 

A  murmur  of  displeasure  began  to  make  itself  heard 
behind  and  around  the  old  general.  Voices  were  heard 
calling  him 

O 

"  Tory  !     Tory  !     Tory  !" 

The  general  turned  and  faced  the  tumult.  He  was 
alone,  a  slender  man  of  three  score  years  and  ter,  and 
carried  no  arms  but  a  small  rapier.  His  eyes  grew 
young  again  beneath  those  flashes  of  fearless  indignation. 

"Pitch  him  into  the  river!"  was  the  next  cry. 

"  In  with  him !  in  with  him !"  was  heard  on  every 
side. 

In  a  moment  the  general  had  drawn  his  rapier,  and 
cutting  his  way  right  and  left  through  the  crowded 
mass,  he  left  the  wharf  before  the  ringleaders  of  the  mob 
recovered  from  their  surprise. 

After  all,  I  think  there  were  enough  left  of  the  ancien 
regime  to  have  protected  the  general  had  violent  hands 
been  laid  upon  him ;  for  he  had  dwelt  among  us  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  and  was  loved  as  only  a  pure, 
honest,  simple-hearted  old  soldier  can  be  loved.  And 
no  sooner,  even  on  this  occasion,  had  the  general  sepa 
rated  himself  from  the  multitude,  than  the  sky  was  rent 
with 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.        347 

"  Three  cheers  for  General  Bladey !" 

It  was  soon  noised  about  the  city  that  the  patriots 
were  defeated  by  Colonel .  This  unwelcome  intelli 
gence  was  soon  confirmed.  Small  boats — French 
canoes  and  others — were  seen  putting  off  from  the 
Canadian  shore,  above  Windsor.  Orders  were  given 
for  the  steamer  which  carried  the  brass  field-piece  to 
proceed  np  the  river  and  arrest  the  fugitives  as  they 
were  crossing.  Cruel  order  it  seemed  !  The  boats  were 
hailed,  some  fired  at,  one  hit,  when  the  steamer  returned  ; 
the  captives  on  board  were  few,  but  among  them  was 
one  poor  groaning  fellow,  who  had  been  struck  by  a  six- 
pounder  ball  on  the  thigh.  He  was  carefully  brought 
ashore  on  a  litter — a  blanket  stretched  over  two  hand 
spikes — and  his  gory  leg  was  visibly  dangling  by  a 
shred  of  the  skin.  The  troops  marched  over  the  wharf. 
The  field-piece  rattled  over  the  stones.  The  drum  and 
fife  of  the  detachment  struck  up  a  lively  air;  and  the 
regulars  inarched  out  of  sight.  Yet  many  a  brave 
heart  was  bleeding  beneath  those  blue  coats — duty! 
what  an  easy  thing,  but  for  heart-bleeding. 

It  was  not  until  several  days  afterwards  that  reliable 
particulars  of  the  battle  could  be  gathered  from  the 
conflicting  rumors.  Chance  at  length  brought  me  into 
the  acquaintance  of  one,  since  become  a  warm  friend, 
who  participated  in  the  affair.  He  was  a  youth  little 
older  than  myself,  who,  carried  away  by  an  ardent  love 
of  liberty,  left  Jiis  home  to  share  the  honors  and  dangers 
of  freedom's  cause. 


34:8  8HOEPAC     RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  "  Champlain"  landed  the  patriots  just  before  the 
break  of  day.  They  marched  at  once  upon  the  Bar 
racks.  The  few  British  troops  quartered  there  suc 
ceeded,  with  the  exception  of  one  soldier,  in  making 
their  escape  to  Sandwich.  The  building  was  fired,  and 
the  patriots — or  rebels,  as  we  must  now  call  them,  since 
the  revolution  failed — proceeded  at  once  to  Windsor, 
which  they  captured  without  a  blow. 

Instead  of  pursuing  the  loyalists  to  Sandwich,  or, 
according  to  the  original  plan,  marching  at  once  for 
Chatham,  and  rousing  the  Canadians,  who  it  was  thought 
were  only  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  an  armed  party 
to  rise  and  rally  around  the  standard  of  revolt,  the 
patriots  lost  time  in  the  taverns  of  "Windsor,  and  were 
hastily  collected  in  the  orchard  on  the  approach  of 

Colonel ,  at  the  head  of  a  small  body  of  British 

citizens  and  soldiers.  The  general  himself,  instead  of 
befng  at  the  head  of  his  men,  was  in  Windsor  when  the 
encounter  took  place.  Hearing  shots  in  the  orchard,  this 
impetuous  warrior  sent  his  aide-de-camp  up  a  lane  in  the 
direction  of  the  firing  to  reconnoitre — discreet  leader ! 

"  General !"  cried  the  aid,  "  they  are  fighting  in  the 
orchard. 

Did  the  chieftain  seize  a  steed,  and  dash,  with  bloody 
rowels,  to  the  field  ?  Did  he  cry, '  a  horse  !  a  horse  !  my 
kingdom  for  a  horse  ?'  Did  he  proceed  at  once  on  foot 
to  the  critical  point  ? 

"  General !"  exclaimed  the  aid,  with  tears,  "  the  men 
are  retreating  up  the  woods !" 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.        349 

"Then  we  will  retreat  up  the  river!"  responded  the 
soul  of  chivalry. 

Field  and  staff ;  i.  c.,  the  general,  his  aid,  and  a  single 
staff  officer,  went  hurrying  along  the  river  road. 

"  We'll  move  up  a  little  way,  then  strike  out  towards 
the  woods,  and  join  our  forces,"  said  the  breathless 
hero  of  many  toothaches.  "The  safety  of  the  com 
mand,  the  success  of  the  expedition,  depends  upon  our 
safety." 

A  little  way  above  Windsor  the  general's  quick  eye 
caught  sight  of  a  canoe  drawn  up  on  the  shore  of  the 
river.  The  general  looked  wistfully  at  the  boat. 

"  What  do  you  say,"  inquired  the  aid,  a  cool  young  gen 
tleman,  "  to  conducting  this  retreat  by  water,  general  ?" 

"  Certainly  !  certainly !"  cried  the  accommodating 
leader,  glancing  towards  the  American  shore  opposite. 
"  Gentlemen,  please  step  into  that  Frenchman's  house, 
and  ask  him  for  his  canoe.  I'm  sure  these  people  can 
refuse  nothing  to  those  who  peril  their  lives  for  them." 

The  aid  and  the  staff  officer  did  as  they  were  ordered. 
But  Antoine,  the  owner,  did  not  easily  understand 
English.  Besides,  Antoine  had  shut  himself  up  in  his 
castle,  till  the  heat  of  the  battle  should  be  over — sucli 
was  the  sort  of  assistance  the  patriots  had  relied  upon — 
Antoine  did  not  feel  secure  that  the  tide  of  war  hid 
swept  by,  and  was  not  inclined  to  leave  his  castle  to 
have  the  object  of  the  two  gentlemen's  wishes  poin.^d 
out.  Finally,  however,  he  emerged  with  his  indefatig 
able  persecutors. 


350  S  H  O  E  P  A  C      K  E  0  O  L  L,  E  C  T  I  O  N  S  . 

What  was  the  astonishment  of  the  two  at  beholding 
the  general,  now  well  out  in  the  river,  paddling  Antoine'a 
canoe  towards  the  American  side. 

"  Holloa !  holloa !  ma  friend !  what  you  do  wiz  ma 
canoe,  eh  ?" 

Like  an  old  war  veteran,  the  general  appeared  deaf. 

"  I'll  make  him  hear,"  said  the  staff  officer,  quietly 
cocking  a  rifle  he  carried.  He  brought  the  gun  to  his 
shoulder  and  shouted, 

"  General,  come  back  and  take  us  in,  or  you  are  a  dead 
man !" 

"  He  has  already  '  taken  us  in,'  "  remarked  the  cool 
aid. 

The  general  recognized  military  language.  He  turned, 
and  beheld  the  gun  levelled  towards  him. 

"  Oh !  don't  fire,  I'll  come  back." 

"  I — I — was  only  trying  to  see  whether  I  could 
paddle,"  said  the  general,  as  he  returned  to  the  shore. 

The  two  young  men  seemed  in  no  haste  to  embark. 

"  Quick  !  quick  !"  quoth  the  general.  "  That 
steamer  '11  have  us.  That  steamer  '11  have  us !" 

"Why,  general!"  asked  the  cool  aid,  "don't  you 
intend  to  pay  the  Frenchman  for  his  canoe  ?" 

"  ISTo !  I  haven't  got  any ;  haste,  dear  fellows,  let's 

be  off,"  the  general  fairly  shrieked. 

"  Haven't  got  any  money,  I  dare  say,"  laughed  the 
cool  aid,  "  that's  the  thing  you  came  to  find  in  Canada." 

Then  taking  off  his  coat  and  handing  it  to  Antoine, 
the  young  man  said  : 


THE      BATTLE      OF     WINDSOR.  351 

"  Here,  Jonny  Crapeau,  I've  no  money  either,  but 
take  this.  Remember  all  patriots  are  not  thieves." 

The  staff  officer  made  a  like  disposition  of  his  rifle. 

"  No  more  need  of  old  Bill  now — take  him,"  said  the 
staff  officer,  "  Patriotism  don't  pay  !" 

The  Frenchman,  holding  coat  in  one  hand  and  rifle 
in  the  other,  looked  at  them  alternately,  as  if  weighing 
their  value  in  one  scale  of  balance,  and  his  feelings  in 
the  other.  Feelings  kicked  the  beam. 

"  Messieurs,  Antoine  Bellarmy  no  fight,  but  take  ze 
coat,  ze  rifle,  of  ze  patriots?  No!  sacre !  by  dam! 
Antoine  is  no  leetle  dog  for  dat!" 

He  then  threw  the  articles  in  the  boat,  and  stood  with 
his  hat  off  on  the  shore. 

"  Now  general,  pull  away!"  quoth  the  cool  aid. 

"  For  God's  sake  !"  cried  that  hero,  piteously.  "  don't 
you  intend  to  take  an  oar — neither  of  you  ?" 

"No!  you  old  coward!  you  have  had  the  benefit  of 
private  practice  ;  pull  away  !" 

By  the  general's  labor,  they  soon  gained  the  middle  of 
the  stream,  which  here  was  about  a  mile  in  width. 

A  shot  from  the  steamer  came  skipping  over  the 
water,  right  ahead  of  their  bows. 

The  general  dropt  his  paddle  in  terror,  the  young  men 
took  up  theirs,  and  the  boat  began  to  fly  through  the 
water  towards  an  island,  whose  woody  cover  might 
afford  a  hiding-place.  But  another  shot  whizzed  over 
their  heads,  and  struck  immediately  beyond  them. 

"  No  use !"  said  the  cool  aid  to  the  staff  officer,  lay- 


352  8  H  0  E  P  A  C     RECOLLECTIONS. 

ing  down  his  paddle.  "  Let  them  take  us.  I'm  willing 
to  be  tried  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  general  catch  it." 

"  Yery  well,"  returned  the  staff  officer. 

They  cast  their  fire-arms  in  the  river,  and  lay  by 
quietly  until  the  steamer  came  nigh. 

"  Pull  up  to  us !"  ordered  an  officer. 

"  Pull  away,  general !"  said  the  cool  aid,  and  the 
leader  of  the  army  of  invasion  made  his  appearance 
before  the  people  of  the  steamer,  tugging  at  a  paddle, 
while  his  two  staff  officers  sat  with  their  arms  coolly 
folded,  in  the  canoe. 

It  only  remains  for  me  to  tell  the  fate  of  the  Colonel, 
Major  Putnam,  Lot,  and  Dandy  Jack.  The  two  former 
were  engaged  with  the  enemy  in  the  orchard — it  was 
they  who  formed  the  patriots  for  battle.  A  volley  or 
two  was  fired  on  each  side,  when  the  patriots  began  to 
break.  "  One  more  round,  men !"  exclaimed  the 
Colonel,  "  and  the  day  is  ours."  lie  rallied  a  few,  who 
turned,  delivered  their  fire,  and  took  to  their  heels. 
His  hoarse  voice  resounded  over  the  field,  as  he  flew 
from  man  to  man,  collaring  one,  and  striking  another 
with  his  sword.  In  vain.  True  it  is  that  one  more 
volley  from  the  whole  line  would  have  sent  the  loyal 
ists  flying — but  the  rebels  flew  first.  The  Colonel  rushed 
with  his  pistol  and  sword  upon  the  advancing  line  of 
the  enemy,  and  was  shot  dead. 

Putnam,  Lot,  and  a  few  other  Canadians,  who  com 
posed  a  little  body  of  their  own,  stood  coolly  loading 
and  firing  till  the  line  broke,  when  the  major  formed  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WINDSOR.        353 

handful  of  men  into  a  rear-guard,  and  falling  back 
slowly,  endeavored  to  cover  the  retreat.  Climbing  a 
fence  at  the  same  moment  with  the  color-bearer,  a  ball 
struck  Putnam.  He  caught  the  banner  in  his  hands  as 
he  fell,  and  was  found  rolled  up  in  a  glorious  winding- 
sheet. 

Lot,  who  doggedly  refused  to  run,  was  overtaken, 
stunned  by  a  blow  of  a  musket,  and  captured. 

An  hour  afterwards,  he  was  placed  against  the  fence, 
and  shot  without  trial.  Before  the  platoon  fired,  he 
fixed  his  eyes  on  Colonel ,  and  said  : 

"  I  summon  you  to  meet  me  with  the  murderers  of 
my  father,  wife,  and  sisters,  at  the  bar  of  God.  Ha  ! 
'twill  be  all  the  same  in  a  hundred  years  !" 

Our  merry  friend,  the  descendant  of  Wamba  the 
"Witless,  went  into  the  tavern  at  Windsor,  after  his 
boasted  beverage,  and  came  out — half  seas  over — at  the 
moment  when  the  British  were  passing  on  their  way  to 
the  orchard.  Mistaking  them  for  patriots  he  fell  in 
with  them.  A  moment  afterwards  he  discovered  his 
mistake.  Colonel ,  with  one  or  two  other  gentle 
men,  was  immediately  before  him.  He  raised  the  horse- 
pistol — "  born  to  distinction,"  and  tired.  Struck  by  an 
\mseen  musket,  it  discharged  its  contents  in  the  air. 
The  next  moment  Dandy  Jack  lay  pinned  to  the  green 
sod  by  a  dozen  bayonets. 

Alas  !  poor  Dandy  Jack! 


351  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 


THE  SHOEPAC  S. 

All,  all  are  fled,  yet  still  I  linger  here  1 

What  secret  charms  this  silent  spot  endear?  ROOERS. 

IN  the  sweet  month  of  June,  I  lately  visited  my 
native  city.  Finding  few  of  the  ancient  landmarks 
remaining  in  the  town  itself,  I  strolled  out  one  afternoon 
and  walked  beside  the  river.  The  old  river-road  even 

* 

had  been  swept  away.  Its  place  was,  to  my  mind,  but 
poorly  supplied  by  a  broad  avenue,  many  roods  above. 
I  was  therefore  obliged  to  cross  the  orchards  and  the 
meadows,  climb  the  fences,  and  almost  invade  the  court 
yards  of  houses  left  standing  near  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  in  order  to  pursue  my  way  along  its  beloved 
course. 

At  length,  fatigued  with  walking  and  climbing,  and 
half  sad  to  find  so  little  left  to  recognize,  I  lay  down 
in  the  shade  of  a  dilapidated  house — once  the  happy 
home  of  a  French  school-fellow.  The  bees  were  hum 
ming  around  me,  yet  I  felt  no  inclination  to  brush  them 
away,  lest  pain  should  be  inflicted  upon  the  descendant 
of  some  insect,  contemporary  with  my  childhood.  The 
orchard  near  by  was  in  full  bloom.  The  bobolinks 


THK      SHOEPACS.  355 

poised  themselves  high  above  the  trees,  and,  on  quiver 
ing  wing,  poured  forth  their  showers  of  melting  sweet 
ness  all  around.  A  cricket  chirped  beneath  a  stone  at 
my  feet,  while  a  ground  sparrow  sprang  to  the  roof 
above,  charming  the  senses  with  his  homely,  familiar 
sonnets.  Lulled  by  the  ripple  of  the  river,  soothed  by 
the  delicious  calmness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  charmed 
by  the  music  of  the  birds  and  the  insect  tribes,  I  dropped 
away  into  the  soft  arms  of  sleep  :  still  imagining  myself 
conscious  of  the  hour,  the  scene,  the  sweetness  of  undis 
turbed  repose. 

To  my  infinite  surprise,  the  building  soon  began  to  fill 
with  little  quaint  figures,  in  old-time  garments,  with  all 
the  vivacity  of  life  in  their  looks  and  their  movements. 
They  appeared  to  treat  my  presence  among  them  in  no 
unfriendly  way.  Some  merely  threw  an  indifferent 
glance  towards  me.  Others  gazed  with  more  attention, 
till  their  curiosity  seemed  satisfied.  Others  again,  drew 
nigh,  and  peered  into  my  face.  One  said,  "  He  is  one  of 
us."  Another  said,  "  Oui !  oui !  he  look  like  his  fader." 
To  my  satisfaction  I  soon  found  that  I  recognized  many 
of  their  faces.  Although  some  had  changed  into  little 
sun-dried  fellows,  others  were  almost  mummy-like  in  their 
antiquity,  a  few  were  fresh  and  fair  as  ever.  I  found 
myself  again  a  boy,  and  among  the  simple  people  of 
early  times.  They  were  mostly  French,  with  here  and 
there  an  American. 

By  degrees  they  formed  themselves  into  groups. 
Some  sat  down  at  games  of  cards,  others  drank  cider, 


SHOEPAC      EECOL L ECT I O N S  . 

which  they  drew  from  a  barrel  standing  in  the  corner, 
unnoticed  by  me  till  now ;  others  had  hickory  nuts  to 
crack.  Some  ate  onions  and  cold  fritters,  others  picked 
wild  ducks,  apparently  just  killed,  or  made  the  silver 
scales  fly  from  the  backs  of  white-fish;  all  chatting 
pleasantly,  like  so  many  lively  monkeys. 

Suddenly  the  scene  was  changed  by  the  entrance  of  a 
brisk  little  fellow,  wearing  a  sword  at  his  side,  and  a 
cockade  in  his  hat,  which,  moreover,  was  adorned  by  a 
plume  almost  a  cubit  long,  composed  of  red  feathers. 
His  costume  was  not  otherwise  peculiar,  except  about 
the  feet.  Here  he  wore  a  sort  of  half  shoe,  half  mocca 
sin,  termed,  in  ancient  phrase,  a  shoepac.  I  was  familiar 
with  it,  had  seen  many  in  my  childhood,  had  worn  them 
myself,  but  now  even  their  venerable  name  is  extinct. 

The  new-comer  strode  directly  to  the  end  of  the 
building  where  I  was  lying,  with  eyes  wide  open  in 
pleasant  wonderment,  and  standing  not  many  paces 
from  me,  with  his  face  towards  the  assembly,  he  called 
out — 

"Attention,  Shoepacs  !" 

The  white- fish,  ducks,  onions,  cards,  cider  and  fritters, 
disappeared.  Every  little  man  jumped  to  his  feet.  On 
all  their  heads  gay  plumes  were  nodding,  with  here  and 
there  a  sorry  little  cock  feather.  They  were  diversely 
armed.  One  bore  a  long  flint-lock  fowling-piece, 
another  an  old-fashioned  pistol,  here  a  pitchfork,  there  an 
umbrella,  a  few  sported  broken  spears,  dangled  long,  rusty 
cavalry  sabres,  and  wore  helmets  with  horse  hair  and 


THE     SHOEPACS.  357 

scales  of  brass.  All  had  on  their  feet  shoepacs  similar 
to  those  described. 

But  ere  I  could  observe  anything  further,  the  little 
speaker  cried  out, 

"  All  dose  gentlemans  present  will  say  here  !" 

"  Here  !  here  !"  shouted  a  score  of  voices. 

"Sacre!  by  dam!  Wait  till  I  call  the  roll,  eh? 
All  dose  gentlemans  present,  when  de  name  is  call,  will 
say  here ;  all  dose  absent  will  step  up  and  pay  the 
fine  !" 

The  last  specimen  of  what  I  thought  an  Irish  bull, 
seemed  not  at  all  to  affect  the  risibilities  of  the  warlike 
host. 

The  brisk  gentleman  now  commenced  calling  over 
his  roll. 

"  Laon  Chene  !"  A  little  old  man,  with  thin  white 
hair,  stepped  forward,  and  brought  his  weapon,  a  duck 
gun,  to  an  order. 

"  Henri  Gadbois  !"  Henri  advanced,  and  took  posi 
tion  on  the  left  flank  of  little  Monsieur  Chene.  Henri 
was  a  tough,  smeared-face  looking  lad,  armed  with  a 
beautiful  barn-yard  cock,  held  by  a  string,  and  which 
flew  upon  Henri's  head,  flapped  his  red  and  golden 
wings,  and  gave  a  loud  defiant  crow. 

"Pierre  Gadbois!"     No  reply.     "Pierre  Gadbois!" 

At  the  second  call  a  figure  seemed  to  rise  from  the 
ground,  walk  slowly  to  the  summoner,  and  deposit  in 
his  hand  an  antique  coin.  It  then  vanished. 

"  Francis  Laflambois  !      Antoine  Lafleur  !      Medore 


358  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS. 

Melanger !  Dominic  Riossele  !"  These  gentlemen,  and 
many  others,  variously  accoutered,  stepped  forth  as  their 
names  were  called,  till  a  well-ordered  array  of  Shoepacs 
stood  before  me  in  rank  and  file.  The  orderly  sergeant 
took  his  proper  post.  The  captain  now  appeared.  He 
was  a  heavily-whiskered,  yet  tiny  man,  mounted  on  a 
mettled  little  pony.  In  an  instant  the  grotesque  multi 
tude  were  marching  oddly  out  of  time  and  order,  the 
be-helmeted  warriors  frisking  on  horseback,  and  clatter 
ing  their  sabres,  one  moment  wheeling  and  the  next 
moment  charging,  and  anon  running  races  among  the 
trees  in  the  orchard,  while  the  footmen  were  striving  to 
catch  the  step,  starting  and  halting  under  the  shrieks  of 
their  orderly  sergeant,  then  dividing,  some  marching 
one  way,  some  another,  then  running  hastily  together, 
and  finally  breaking  into  a  confused  melange. 

I  lay  upon  my  back  in  silence  awhile.  But  irreverent 
laughter  soon  seized  me,  and  I  laughed  and  shouted  and 
rolled  on  the  grass,  utterly  unable  to  repress  the  out 
bursts  of  mirth,  at  the  queer  little  antics  cutting  around 
me.  In  a  short  time,  however,  the  good  gentlemen 
defiled  into  the  building  again  ;  and  stood  regarding  me, 
all  with  sad  visages.  I  never  witnessed  so  mournful  a 
sight,  such  hopeless,  woe-begoiie  countenances,  such 
despairing,  sorrowful  expressions.  Why  they  looked  at 
me  with  fixed  eyes,  I  could  not  perceive.  I  arose  from 
the  ground  and  mingled  among  them,  desiring  them, 
here  and  there,  as  I  knew  one  and  another,  to  express  to 
me  what  it  was  that  sat  heavily  upon  them,  and  what, 


THE      S  H  0  E  P  A  0  S  . 

if  any  tliiBir,  might  bo   done   to  render  them  once  more 

i/  O'  O 

the  careless,  jovial,  happy  crew  I  had  just  seen,  and  long 
ago  had  known  them  to  be.  The}r  pointed  to  the  decay 
ing  roof  of  the  habitation  ;  they  gazed  with  steadfast 
eyes  on  the  river,  as  if  they  sought  their  canoes ;  they 
turned  towards  the  city  below,  humming  with  the  busi 
ness  arid  pastimes  of  a  race  that  was  gradually  crowd 
ing  them  from  their  homes  and  happy  employments ; 
they  gave  the  same  sad,  wistful  look  as  at  the  first ;  then 
vanishing,  not  like  the  pageantries  of  other  dreams,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  but  slowly,  one  by  one,  with 
the  same  sad,  wistful  look,  till  all  are  gone. 

I  awoke ! 

Many  times  afterwards,  revisiting  the  spot,  and  lulled 
by  the  same  delicious  sounds  as  before,  I  slept  in  the 
shade  of  the  old  ruin ;  hoping  to  renew  the  dream ; 
hoping  to  gain  the  secret  of  wishes  so  gravely  and  sor 
rowfully  expressed,  yet  so  little  understood.  I  began  to 
muse  over  the  times,  faintly  remembered  at  first,  when 
the  simple  French  people -held  undisputed  and  gentle 
sway  along  this  whole  frontier.  Standing  between  the 
red-man  and  white-man,  mingling  with  both,  disturbing 
neither,  with  little  to  defend,  and  no  desire  to  aggrandize, 
their  ephemeral  existence  was  as  glowing  with  the  plea 
sure  of  light-hearted  enjoyment,  as  the  insects  that 
sport  away  their  hour  of  sunshine,  and  like  them  pass 
ing  away  unnoticed  or  soon  forgotten. 

Fain  would  we  light  up  the  darkness  of  that  oblivion 
to  which  they  are  fast  being  consigned.  But  coming 


360  SHOEPAC      RECOLLECTIONS 

lato  in  their  day,  and  seeing  them  through  the  medium 
of  childhood,  we  have  not  ventured,  in  these  sketches,  to 
attempt  more  than  to  throw  an  occasional  flickering  raj 
upon  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  simple  race. 
"With  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  those  who  have  sup 
planted  them,  especially  the  earlier  folk,  who  caught 
not  a  little  of  their  genial  light  and  warmth,  our 
memory  is  more  at  home.  It  may  be  a  pleasure  for 
some,  whose  pulse  is  beating  high  beneath  the  torrid 
zone  of  the  present,  to  have  gazed  for  one  short  hour 
upon  the  cool  region  of  a  temperate  past — 'yesterday  but 
still  a  part  of  to-day. 


THE     END. 


*     = 
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